#gotta get ahead before it gets intense . . . .

[miodiodavinci]

woughh,,,,, busy,,,,,,,,,

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve had long accepted that Carol always came up with the best or the worst idea. There was no in between. But this time, he might have to thank her for telling him about Eddie Munson's talented mouth.

One night, when they were drunk and feeling funny, Carol had dared Steve to walk up to The Freak and demand the alpha eat him out.

“What’s the reward?” Steve had squinted at her.

“A mind-blowing orgasm,” Carol had wiggled her brows. “I heard Munson is really good with his mouth.”

Steve had snorted and that was the end of the topic.

He knew Carol hadn't meant it and had probably forgotten about the whole thing came the morning.

But every time he ran into Eddie at the school, his eyes would always linger a bit too long on those plump lips.

Carol’s words kept circling in his head like a broken record.

Munson is really good with his mouth.

Steve should’ve known better than to give in to his curiosity (and desire), but by the time he stood in Eddie’s bedroom, blushing and trying to not fumble around like an idiot, it had been too late to back out.

He had suggested the school’s bathroom stall at first, but the alpha just shook his head with a lopsided smile, “Princesses like you deserve to be taken to a bed.”

It was supposed to be mocking, but the way Eddie scrambled up to follow after him like a dog with a bone told Steve everything he needed to know.

So now, with Eddie’s head burying between his legs and hot tongue lapping at his cunt, Steve decided that Carol was right for once.

That mouth was really talented.

Steve had his fingers tangled in the mass of dark curls, thighs trembling and eyes rolling back as Eddie pinned him down and drank all of his slick from the very source.

“Eddie,” he mewled, seeing stars when the alpha licked at his sweet spot.

And then, his stomach tightened, the pulsating heat coursed through him and before he knew it, the blinding pleasure crashed over him like a bull.

It was his most intense orgasm and he was still shaking when Eddie pulled away, eyes dark and heavy with want.

“Again?” The alpha asked, hand stroking his hipbone slowly, temptingly.

Steve should’ve turned down the offer, told Eddie it was just a one-time thing, put on his briefs and slacks and gone on his way.

But Steve did none of that. He just nodded and spread his legs wider, “Please.”

It was all Eddie needed to kiss him on the forehead, “So polite. Such a good boy, aren't you?”

Steve let out a chirp but before he could feel embarrassed about it, Eddie kissed him again. This time, it was on his lips.

“Gonna treat you right, sweetheart.”

And Steve was helplessly charmed.

In hindsight, he should’ve seen it coming a mile away with how eager Eddie had been at his audacious request.

Because after three orgasms being wrung out of him, Eddie just kept going, sucking and licking and fucking Steve’s sensitive pussy with his tongue.

He didn't stop until Steve screamed his name and squirted all over his face, cross-eyed and delirious from the overstimulation.

Steve had been too out of it to register whatever the alpha tried to tell him afterward. When he regained his senses again, he found himself all cleaned up with his briefs on and tucked under a soft quilt that smelled of citrus and cigarettes.

It felt like coming home but Steve didn't want to get ahead of himself so he ignored the joyful purr from his inner omega and let his eyes wander, searching for a certain alpha instead.

As soon as he wondered where the hell Eddie was, the door opened and let the alpha in. He smiled teasingly when he caught Steve staring.

“Back to earth, Harrington?”

Steve frowned. He wanted to be ‘sweetheart’ again. But he just pushed through his sudden discomfort and sat up.

“Yeah, I gotta go,” he didn't bother meeting Eddie’s eyes as he tried to stand up on his wobbly legs.

And yet, he was taken off guard when Eddie was by his side within seconds and gently pushed him back down.

“Wha–”

The kiss was a surprise, but Steve wasn't picky so he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck and let out those happy trills and chirps.

Was he too easy to please? Perhaps.

Then again, Steve wasn't one to turn down his chance and if Eddie decided to give him what he wanted, he didn't see why he shouldn’t take it and run as far away as possible.

“God, you’re so sweet,” Eddie groaned once they parted. “Never taste anything as sweet as you.”

“Liar,” Steve pouted with a haughty sniff.

“I’m not,” Eddie pecked the corner of his lips repeatedly, as if couldn't have enough of him, as if to stave off the endless hunger. “Been crazy about you for years, sweetheart.”

“Really?” Steve arched his eyebrow and bit his lips to contain his stupid smile.

“Really really,” Eddie seemed to give up the charade and kissed him square on the lips again. “Just say the word and I’ll give you everything, baby boy.”

“Then fuck me,” Steve murmured against those plump lips. “And if you’re good, I might ride your knot later.”

Steve knew he had gotten Eddie right where he wanted when the alpha growled and flipped him over.

The next day, he walked to his locker with a limp and Carol just shot him an impressed look.

Honestly, Steve also felt pretty proud of himself.

[pucksandpower]

Say My Name

Oscar Piastri x streamer!Reader

Summary: when fans mistake Oscar for your ex while he is hanging around in the background of your stream, you get introduced to a side of Oscar that you’ve never seen before

Warnings: 18+ content

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you narrate the intense battle unfolding on your stream. “Oh damn, that was close! I almost got sniped there.” You lean in, eyes narrowed at the screen. “Gotta be more careful or this round is over.”

The chat explodes with messages cheering you on. Being one of the top female gaming streamers has its perks, like an incredibly loyal fanbase that hangs on your every word.

You glance at the viewer count — over 50,000 watching live. Not too shabby.

“Okay team, let’s rush B, I’ll try to draw their fire.” You move your character into position, heart pounding with anticipation.

Suddenly, a quiet thump comes from the living room behind you. You start, whipping your head around, but see nothing amiss through the open doorway. Must have been your imagination.

You refocus on the game, calling out tactics to your teammates. Another muffled sound, like something soft hitting the floor, catches your attention. You turn off your video and hit mute on your mic. “Hello? Is someone there?”

No response. You’re just about to unmute when a very familiar face pops into view from the hallway. It’s your boyfriend of nearly two years.

Your face splits into a huge grin as you take in his messy hair and the rumpled clothes he slept in on the flight. “Oscar! You’re back early!”

He crosses to you, bending to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair.

You tilt your face up for a proper kiss, “I missed you too, ba-”

But you’re cut off as his lips crash into yours, insistent and heated. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the sudden, passionate embrace. Far too soon, Oscar pulls away, leaving you flustered and breathless.

“Sorry,” he says with a smirk that suggests he’s anything but. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You shake your head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. I’m working, you know.”

“So I noticed.” Oscar settles onto the couch just off-camera, casual as can be. “Don’t mind me, keep going.”

“You sure?” You eye him skeptically. The stream has been on a short period without your commentary and the chat is getting restless. “I can take a break if you want.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’m just going to hang out here for a bit. Go ahead.”

Hesitating only a moment, you turn your video back on and unmute your mic. “Alright folks, sorry about that little pause. I, uh, got a surprise visitor.” You gesture vaguely toward where Oscar lounges behind you.

The chat instantly lights up with questions about who was there. Smiling to yourself, you ignore them for now, re-focusing on the game.

Over the next hour, it becomes increasingly difficult to concentrate. Oscar keeps distracting you, making silly faces and gestures whenever you glance his way. More than once you have to stifle a laugh after catching sight of him. Your fans seem to find your giggly mood delightful, though they remain oblivious to the cause.

Finally, in a rare break between matches, you swivel in your chair to face him. “You’re being so disruptive,” you stage-whisper. “Don’t you have better things to do than pester me?”

Oscar feigns innocence. “Who, me? I’m just sitting here, love.”

Rolling your eyes, you stretch your arms overhead with a groan, back popping from sitting so long. Oscar’s gaze shamelessly rakes over you, darkening.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, fighting a smile.

“Like what?” His eyes glint with mischief.

You open your mouth to respond, but a new donation notification pops up on your stream, cutting you off. “Oh, wow, thanks for the ten thousand bits, Legend27!” The expensive donation isn’t that unusual, but the comment attached gives you pause.

I’m so happy you and Eric made up! You two are couple goals for real.

Frowning, you scan the new barrage of messages flooding the chat … and find dozens echoing similar sentiments.

Your stomach drops as you finally realize what your viewers think is happening. They assume Oscar is actually your ex, the one you briefly dated and had an awful breakup with over two years ago. Apparently his surprise appearance has led them to believe you two have reconciled.

Heat floods your face at the misunderstanding. Objecting seems pointless though — you’ve learned it’s better not to discuss your private romantic life on stream. “Ah, thanks guys, you’re too kind,” you finally say, aiming for a neutral tone.

Beside you, Oscar stiffens, catching the implications of the messages. His jaw clenches and you watch as his face cycles through a series of micro-expressions — first surprise, then confusion, quickly followed by displeasure and … jealousy?

Uh oh. This could get messy fast if he gets worked up. You try to subtly shake your head at him in a silent plea to ignore the chat.

No such luck. His brow furrows deeper and you can practically see the tension ratcheting up in his shoulders.

Suddenly, Oscar surges to his feet with a muttered curse. Before you can react, he’s stalking around the side of your chair until he’s directly in view of the camera’s frame.

“Oscar, what are you-”

But he cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your startled squeak is smothered by his fierce, possessive mouth moving over yours.

Powerless to resist the onslaught of sensations, you melt bonelessly against him as the kiss stretches on and on. Only the escalating number of notifications showing the shock and exclamations from your viewers finally breaks through the heady fog.

With extreme reluctance, Oscar ends the kiss, both of you panting. He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your flushed skin as he growls, “She’s mine.”

Then, before you can respond, he reaches past you and slams his palm into the power button of your streaming setup, shutting everything down.

The simultaneous howl of outrage from tens of thousands of confused fans cuts off abruptly as the screen goes black. Only the two of you are left in the ringing silence that follows.

“Oscar!” You finally manage. “What was that?”

He pulls away enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I got … jealous,” he admits, seeming almost surprised at his own vehement reaction. “When they thought I was your ex. I didn’t like that at all.”

Your expression softens at his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Reaching out, you trace his sharp cheekbone with gentle fingers. “You have no reason to be jealous, silly man. It’s only ever been you.”

Some of the blazing heat in his stare banks into smoldering embers at your reassurance. “Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

He leans in again until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. “Because you’re mine, okay? And I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, dizzy with wanting him. “I’m all yours, Oscar.”

The possessive words seem to flip a switch in him. With a low, rumbling sound of approval, his mouth slants over yours once more in a searing, demanding kiss that makes your toes curl.

The abrupt ending to your stream is already causing a social media firestorm of epic proportions. But surrounded by the circle of Oscar’s arms, his familiar warmth and love, you can’t find it in yourself to care even a little bit.

After all, you think dizzily as he deepens the kiss, your fans should have recognized that you two were a couple from the very start — because Oscar Piastri is most definitely not your ex.

He’s your everything.

***

Oscar’s hands are everywhere, seemingly unable to get enough of you as his kisses grow more and more fervent. Your back hits the wall with a gentle thump as he crowds closer, caging you in with the solid warmth of his body.

“Missed you so much, love,” he rasps against the heated skin of your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A whimper escapes your lips at the scorching path his mouth blazes over your pulse point. “I m-missed you too, Oscar.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer and he rewards you by sucking a mark into the sensitive spot just below your ear. Pleasure zings along your nerves at the hint of delicious possession in the act.

When he finally pulls back to gaze at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips are reddened from enthusiastic use. The sight sends a molten flare of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Say it again,” he commands roughly, voice gone low and gritty in that way that never fails to make you melt.

You blink up at him, momentarily lost in a lust-fueled haze. “W-What?”

“My name.” His large hands skim over the curve of your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt. “Say my name again.”

“Oscar,” you breathe without hesitation, watching raptly as his pupils blow wider at the sound. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...”

Each breathy iteration seems to stoke his hunger hotter. His fingers flex against your sides like he’s holding himself back from something.

On a daring whim, you slant your mouth near his ear, letting your lips brush the shell with every word. “Oscar Piastri,” you practically purr. “My Oscar.”

A broken groan is your only warning before he’s on you again, mouths crashing together in a heated crash of lips, teeth, and tangling tongues. His hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck, angling your face for deeper exploration.

When you finally manage to tear your lips away, you’re both panting harshly, chests heaving. “What’s … gotten into you?” You pant.

Rather than answer, Oscar just shakes his head and dives back in for more fervent kisses, like a man dying of thirst and you’re the most delicious drink he’s ever tasted.

It’s not until he suddenly grips your waist and spins the two of you around, depositing you on the desk with a surprising lack of finesse, that you realize just how wildly affected he is.

Oscar licks into the seam of your lips like he’s staking a claim and something within you shatters at the stark, naked wanting in his eyes when he pulls back the tiniest bit.

He just stares at you, chest heaving, gaze roving hungrily over your features like he’s memorizing you all over again. His pupils are blown wide, just thin rings of molten brown remaining around the black.

When he speaks, his voice is low and gravelly in a way that vibrates through you. “Say. My. Name.”

“Oscar,” you respond immediately, not even having to think. His hungry gaze burns over you and you feel stripped bare and vulnerable under the weight of it.

But rather than make you want to cover up, it has the opposite effect — you’re reeling him in, hands fisted in his shirt to pull him closer. You never want this delirious, frantic sense of possession and desire to end.

“Again,” he grinds out, sounding utterly wrecked already.

“Oscar.” You bare your neck for him as you say it, like presenting an offering. He groans low and deep, instantly ducking to mouth along the column of your throat.

His hands are everywhere, pushing up the hem of your top, kneading along your sides and ribs as he nips and sucks bruising paths across your collarbones and chest.

“Don’t stop saying it,” he orders, more plea than demand.

So you let his name become a breathless prayer falling from your lips, over and over between gasps and keening whimpers. You lose yourself in a heady feedback loop — the more you speak his name with naked wanting, the wilder it seems to drive him until his touch grows scattered and devouring.

At some point his hands finally succeed in tugging your shirt up and off. Your name doesn’t even register when his scorching mouth closes over one peaked bud, your back bowing at the shuddering bolt of sensation that lances through you.

All you can seem to process is the feel of his calloused palms mapping every inch of newly-exposed skin and the desperate mumble of “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...” spilling shameless and endless from your lips.

Eventually, the heated exploration of his mouth and hands becomes too much to simply lay there and take. With a low, guttural sound you haul Oscar upright and swing your legs around his hips, relishing his full body shudder.

“Not enough,” you accuse roughly, rolling your core against his in clear invitation. “Need you closer, Oscar.”

His heated groan at your wanton demand is music to your ears. Strong hands grasp your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist as he surges against you.

“So impatient, my darling girl,” he teases. This close, you can make out the faintest brush of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that you’ve mapped and memorized with lips and fingertips a hundred times before.

You can’t help but reach out to graze them with your thumb, gazing up at him with naked adoration. “My Oscar,” you murmur reverently.

His eyes slip shut for a beat, jaw ticking as if your words have an unexpectedly profound effect on him. When he opens them again, his gaze is fierce and intent.

“Yours,” he vows simply, leaning in to seal the promise against the plush of your lips.

The kiss is somehow softer and headier than before. You get lost in the lush glide of his mouth, every sliding brush of lip and tongue shorting out whatever rational thoughts remain until all you know is his name — the shape and taste and weight of it against your own.

It’s the only thing that seems real, vital, until at some point Oscar’s mouth leaves yours to trail hot, openmouthed kisses down your chest and stomach and lower still.

Your back bows as you squirm incoherently against the press of his lips and tongue. His restraint seems to have finally snapped, movements growing hungry and rough as he works you steadily higher.

“Oscar,” you sob out his name like you’re breaking apart, pleading for something you can’t quite name. He answers with a rumbling sound of satisfaction that vibrates hotly against your sensitized flesh.

More, is all you can think as he redoubles his efforts.

At some point, you must have arched helplessly off the desk because suddenly his hands are at the small of your back, fingertips digging in hard as he holds you arched for his questing mouth.

The intimate angle of his positioning has your jaw dropping open on a silent scream of overwhelmed pleasure. All that escapes is a strangled gasp of, “Oscar!”

He growls something incoherent against you that might be praise, might be reassurance, might just be your name groaned out roughly in shared bliss. But you honestly can’t tell anymore — you’ve transcended far past coherent speech and rational thought.

Everything has devolved into just sensation and feeling and the endless loop of his name spilling over and over from your lips like a benediction.

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...

Just when you think you might actually shatter into pieces from the intensity he’s wringing out of you, strong hands are abruptly hauling you up and off the desk in one smooth motion.

You cling to him with heavy limbs, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he staggers the few steps to your shared bedroom. At some point his shirt has vanished, allowing your hands free rein to roam over flexing muscle and heated skin.

When the backs of his legs hit the edge of the mattress, he pauses to claim your mouth in another searing, shattering kiss. He whispers something fervent and intense against your lips, your name perhaps intertwined with endearments or promises.

You can’t be sure. All you know is the shape of his name against your tongue, the only word your mind seems capable of holding onto as he lowers you reverently to the sheets and stretches out over you.

When he finally sinks into you with a harsh groan of relief, your back bows and you let out a broken, high keen — his name once more torn from your lips in breathless ecstasy.

“There you are, that’s it love,” he growls hoarsely as he begins to move, words interspersed between drugging, thorough thrusts. “Let me hear you, let me hear my name on those pretty lips.”

So you do, shamelessly loud and incoherent now as he gradually unravels you from the inside out. His name and gasped pleas and frantic praise all blur together in a continuous stream of blissful delirium.

At some point, his own control seems to splinter apart, hips snapping hard and deep as his pace turns utterly unrestrained. Still, you chase that shattering edge, crying out for Oscar as your whole world narrows to the merciless intensity of his driving thrusts and demanding hands kneading your flesh with staking ownership.

When you finally go soaring over that dizzying peak with his name torn hoarse from your throat, he follows you over almost violently with a ragged shout. Oscar’s arms shake dangerously as he holds his weight off of you, pupils swallowing up the copper of his eyes entirely in onyx pools of spent lust.

As you slowly float back down from that searing high, limbs heavy and sated, you reach up to trace the sharp line of his cheekbone. He turns his face into your palm with a shuddering exhale as if grounding himself.

For several long breaths, all that can be heard is your shaky inhales mingling together while your racing heartbeats gradually return to normal.

Finally, Oscar presses a warm, lingering kiss to the center of your palm before shifting to stretch out beside you, his weight dipping the mattress.

You immediately curl into the reassuring heat of him, despite the sweat still cooling along your skin. One of his arms bands around your waist, holding you flush against his side while his other hand comes up to card soothingly through your hair.

Nestling your face into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, you press a gentle kiss to the hollow of his throat and whisper, “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” he murmurs back, low and slightly scratchy in the aftermath. You can hear the smile in his voice as his fingers keep carding idly through your hair.

Silence falls again, comfortable and peaceful in the aftermath of your frantic passion, both of you simply basking in the warmth of shared nearness.

Eventually though, the question you’ve been avoiding asking slips out in a hazy murmur. “What brought all … that … on, Oscar?”

He’s quiet for so long, you begin to wonder if he fell asleep. Just when you’re about to shift to look at him though, he speaks up.

“When your fans assumed I was your ex … the way they were celebrating that the two of you got back together ...” His fingers stroke almost absentmindedly through your hair as he pauses. “I dunno, something in me just .. .snapped a little. Seeing them say over and over how perfect he was for you ...”

He trails off with a low chuckle, and you can’t resist craning your neck to glance up at him curiously. When your eyes meet his, his expression is rueful.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of any other name on your lips, love. Even your own.” His fingertips trace the line of your jaw with unbearable tenderness. “All I wanted was for you to say my name like that — like it’s the only word that matters in the entire world.”

Just like that, a fresh ember of want rekindles low in your belly at the slightly awed honesty in his voice. You exhale a shaky breath, searching his stormy gaze for … what? Evidence of how crazily affected you are by such a simple revelation?

Whatever he finds reflected in your stare seems to give him pause as well because his eyes almost immediately darken with renewed hunger.

“Say it again then,” he husks, rolling until he’s leaned over you, hands planted on either side of your head. There’s no demand in the words, just low, thrumming need thrilling between you both.

So you reach up to cup his face in your palms, rubbing your thumbs over the sandpapery stubble along his strong jawline as you gaze adoringly up at him.

“Oscar ...” you breathe out his name like a sacred invocation. “My Oscar.”

His eyes slip shut and he makes a low, ragged sound of pure satisfaction on an exhale that ghosts across your lips.

“Yeah,” he rasps, bending lower until his forehead rests against yours. “That’s it, love … that’s all I ever want to hear.”

You pull him back down to you then, unable and unwilling to resist sealing the promise of those words against his lips with your own.

And as everything inevitably dissolves into heat and need and formless ecstasy once more, you lose yourself to the endless chant of his name on your lips — your entire world whittled down to just that one exalted word, over and over and over.

Because really, what other name could ever matter when Oscar Piastri is the only name you’ll ever need?

[juneberrie]

tell your girlfriend ꩜ abby anderson

⋆.˚ summary: abby saves you from a creepy guy at the bar

content: ellie and abs are friends, modern au, implied hockey!abs, getting hit on by creepy guys duh, mentions of alchohol/drinking etc

ⓘ author's note: ermm this is probably ooc but anyways i need abby so bad guys u dont get it.

word count: 0.8k || masterlist

the bar was absolutely packed, the loud music thumping through the room. ellie's band was up on stage, which was arguably the only thing abby was enjoying about the night.

ellie had convinced her to come see their gig, and abby reluctantly agreed, hesitant to be around so many drunken idiots at once.

currently, she was standing near the back of the room, arms crossed as she watched the flashing lights strobe over the crowd. ellie's fingers moved skillfully over the strings of her guitar, girls screaming as she smirked at them. abby rolled her eyes, smiling to herself as she watched her friend. she had to admit, she wasn't entirely mad that ellie had insisted she come.

her eyes drifted towards the bar. she had promised herself that she wouldn't drink anything that night, having practice early in the morning. but..... maybe one drink wouldn't hurt.

she pushed her way through the crowd, eventually coming to stand in a relatively empty spot at the bar. "a beer, please?" she asked the bartender, who nodded.

as she waited for her drink, she saw a girl standing by herself. she's cute, she thought. then, some guy sidled up to the girl.

۫ ꣑ৎ

your friends had dragged you out of your room to go to a bar, and where did that land you? standing uncomfortably at the bar, getting hit on by some sleaze as you waited for your drinks.

the guy had slid up next to you, grinning wolfishly.

"hey baby," he said. you kept your eyes trained straight ahead, hoping he would take the hint. as men do, though, he took your ignorance as a challenge. "what's a pretty girl like you doin' all alone?"

you crossed your arms over your chest. "sorry, not interested."

he chuckled, moving closer to you. "c'mon, baby." he placed a hand on your lower back. "let's dance."

"no, sorry," you repeated, stiffening and taking a step back from him.

he scoffed. "what, you got a boyfriend?" he leaned dangerously close to you, his breath fanning over your face. you wrinkled your nose, the smell of alcohol on his breath.

you thought back quickly to everything you'd ever learned from being a woman. men respect other men. then again... maybe if you said you weren't into men, he'd get the hint.

"girlfriend," you lied. "i have a girlfriend."

that didn't deter him though. he took another step forward, hand hovering over your waist. "she don't gotta know," he sneered. "i bet i could turn you straight, anyways."

you shifted, eyes darting around the room. "i—"

he cut you off again, grabbing your waist and pulling you close. "tell your 'girlfriend' she can fuck off," he smirked.

suddenly, a muscled arm slipped in between the two of you, successfully separating you from the douche.

you quickly turned to see who the arm belonged to, expecting to see some other gym bro ready to hit on you. but... it wasn't. it was a girl. arguably the finest girl you had ever seen in your life. she looked down at you, her blue eyes intense.

"hey babe. sorry, bathroom line was long," she said. you were confused for a second, before your mind caught on to what she was doing. she glanced at the guy, her brow furrowing. "who's this?"

you shrugged, and something in her jaw ticked. she stood up straighter, and wow she was tall. she easily towered over the guy by at least a foot, and when she crossed her arms, her muscles strained against the tight fabric of her shirt. the guy's eyes widened.

the girl raised an eyebrow at the guy, who scoffed and slunk away, muttering under his breath.

the girl sighed as he disappeared out of view, taking a small step back from you to give you a bit of space.

"you alright?" she asked. you looked up at her, taking in her features.

"yeah," you breathed. "thank you so much."

a small smile tugged at her lips, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.. "no problem. im abby."

"y/n," you replied, returning her smile.

for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the sounds of the bar fading away. she snapped out of it when the bartender slid her beer and your drinks. you turned to thank the bartender, reaching for your wallet, when abby slid a few wrinkled bills across the countertop. she smiled at you, cutting you off before you could protest. "my treat."

you opened and closed your mouth, trying to think of what to say before simply deciding to nod, a grin splitting your face. "you... didn't have to do that, you know," you said eventually, after taking multiple sips of your drink.

"nah, it's cool," she reassured you.

"no, really, you shouldn't have," you laughed, cheeks burning. "at least let me repay you." she quirked an eyebrow up, curious as to what you would say next.

the music was blasting through the speakers as the lanky girl on stage shredded on the guitar. your eyes roved over the groups of people clumped together, grinding and spinning and swaying to the song.

"dance with me?"

abby lowered the beer from her lips, her eyes sparkling in the dim lighting of the bar. "i'd love to."

[bxeckersz]

LUNCH | kate martin x female!reader

summary: the girls wanna go out for lunch but kate decides to have a snack before…

warnings: smut (straight filth), p eating (r! receiving), language, mommy kink

“I could eat that girl for lunch. Yeah, she dances on my tongue.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Kate had invited her team to our house today since the girls had an off day. It was rare that they had any off days so we always made sure to do something.

“guys we should go out to lunch” Gabbie suggested. I was sitting on the couch, my legs draped over Kate’s lap as she slowly rubbed on my thighs.

The whole team was over at me and Kate’s house right now. Like the whole team. Most of the girls were sprawled on the floor watching their phones or making TikToks.

“We should” Jada and Caitlin said at the same time causing the room to erupt into laughter. “Bro, ya’ll are literally twins” I laughed. “I know right. My evil twin right here” Jada said as she interlocked arms with Caitlin.

The girls started to get up, grabbing their bags and stuff. “Kate, Y/n? are ya’ll coming?” Kennise said, grabbing her phone. “Uhm. Yeah. we’ll just meet you guys there” Kate said, causing me to look up.

“Alright” Molly said. With that everyone walked out of the door. “Why didn’t we leave with them?” I said, curiosity filling my tone in voice.

Kate just smirked and pulled me onto her lap, kissing me intensely. Her hands roamed my body, eventually going down to grab my ass.

“Kate. in- Lets go in the room.” I managed to get out in between kisses. “mhm” She nodded. She picked me up, my legs wrapping around her waist as we walked into our room.

She put me down on the bed, going on top of me. Her kisses roamed my body going from my lips to my neck. “Kate” I moaned out. “don’t. Don’t leave any hickeys.”

“mhm” she hummed against my skin. “let’s hurry up, hm?” Kate whispers, her voice low and husky. I nod eagerly.

“let’s take these off” She said, pulling my shorts and panties off. “So wet for me, ma.” She said, attaching her lips to my pussy.

“oh fuck” I moan out, gripping kate’s hair. I feel her smirk against me, speeding up her movements. “you taste so good” She hummed against my pussy.

“faster, kate. please” I moan out. “so needy” She rasped, moving her tongue faster. “kate. fuck. oh yes” I moan. she looked up at me, making eye contact as her tongue slid into me, finding the right spot.

“shit. right there.” I moan out, grinding my hips against her face. “fuck. feels so good. so good.” I moan. “Doing so good, baby” kate said, repeatedly hitting the same spot.

“fuck. i’m gonna cum.” I moan as my legs begin to shake, tightening my thighs around her head. “go ahead, ma. cum for me” Kate said, moving faster. Her words combined with that tongue of hers sent me over edge.

That tight knot in my stomach snapped. “oh fuck. mommy.” I moaned as i came. Kate smirked, looking up at me as she helped me ride my high out.

I felt her phone buzz from the side of me so i grabbed it, throwing it to her, very out of breath. “yeah?” Kate said, licking her lips.

“Bro, hurry the hell up.” Caitlin said. “aight, aight. we’re coming.” Kate said, out of breath. were ya’ll fucking or something? like why are you so out of breath?” Kennise said, popping her head into the phone.

“Bro. get the fuck off my phone. text me the restaurant you guys went to. we’re on the way” Kate said, hanging up. “We gotta go, baby. and you gotta fix that” Kate said, pointing to my shaking legs.

“Bro. shut up.” I said, getting up to get clothes out. “Watch that mouth of yours” Kate said. “shit. I’m so full off of eating you for lunch, i don’t know if i’m gonna get anything.” Kate added, laughing slightly.

I just rolled my eyes at her comment, walking into the bathroom to get ready.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

thanks for reading all the way through, as alwaysss!! guys this might be shit I literally rushed through this 😭😭.

anyways, hope you guys enjoy!

[a-hazbin-reader]

i can't stop thinking about alastor and wifey slow dancing on "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley, at the dead of night, when they think everyone is asleep at the hotel, and everyone hiding away and witnessing just how corny they both are for each other

would you be willing to write this if you're taking request? 🥹

NOT THE FIRST TIME I'VE GOT THIS ONE SO-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None?? I think???

Description: ☝️⬆️

Things have been busy at the hotel lately, everyone has been scrambling to keep up with business which left you and Alastor with little time together

The moments you do get together are always either interrupted or you both are too exhausted to do little more than snuggle

You and Alastor try to make time together and set up a lunch date? It starts out well enough, the two of you relaxing

The food is good, the seats were perfect, and more importantly, you finally had your husband's attention all to yourself

He's rubbing a thumb over your hand gently, smiling at you like he's fallen in love with you all over again

"I've missed getting to spend time with you, things have been so busy lately..."

He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it softly, humming in agreement as his foot nudges yours under the table

"As have I~ I can't have my wife getting lonely, now can I~?"

You rub your ankle against his leg gently, laughing softly at his antics

"No~ I suppose you can't-"

"Alastor! Fancy running into you here~! Listen, I gotta favor I need to ask you!"

Suddenly, Mimzy is there at the table and sitting herself down, getting settled in and leaning in to chat with Alastor

Who can never resist helping out the poor woman, so of course he nods along with whatever she's saying, leaving you to roll your eyes and get up

"I'll see you later, my dear~ Goodbye, Mimzy~ It was good to see you're still alive and causing trouble."

"Bye-bye girly~ We gotta catch up next time, you hear~?"

Alastor gives you an apologetic look, mumbling something about trying again next time as he hugs your hips to try and anchor you in place

You kiss the side of your husband's head and wave at Mimzy as you leave, your little window of time together vanishing

Another time, the two of you were out on a walk together, arm in arm as you two enjoyed the nice weather without interruptions

You were leaning on him, Alastor occasionally nuzzling the side of your head and squeezing you closer affectionately

You were just about to steal a kiss, tilting your head up and leaning in to meet his lips halfway when suddenly a TV in a shop window came to life

With Vox whining and bitching about Alastor again, that son of a bitch

You sigh as you feel your husband's intense gaze on you, rubbing your forehead as you look up to avoid the puppy eyes

"Go ahead, I can't very well keep you from defending yourself now can I?"

He chuckles and kisses your cheek softly before pulling away to give you a wide grin, already thinking of all the ways he's going to humiliate Vox on air

"You're simply the best wife a man could ask for~! Thank you, my dear~!"

You only shake your head and sigh once you're alone, the moment together once again being snatched away from you

You'll make Vox pay for that later

Things only got busier after that, you and Alastor only see each other as you pass by, not even able to squeeze out a quick kiss

"Hello, my darling~!"

His hand catches yours, twirling you expertly into his arms as he tries to give you some fleeting affection before he has to leave

You laugh and place your hands on his chest to steady yourself, slowly sliding a hand up to cup his cheek as you lean in closer

"Good luck today, dearest~"

Alastor leans down to rub noses with you, hands gripping your hips a little tighter, eyes locked on your lips as a soft sigh comes out of you

Any attempt to linger is thwarted by those around you, Charlie pulling Alastor one way and Vaggie tugging you in another

Tragic really

You've just about given up on getting a real moment alone with your husband, walking into a dark and quiet hotel carrying a half awake Vaggie

"Nn...this is Charlie's side of the bed..."

You can't help but roll your eyes, moving her over onto the correct side anyways and tucking her in

"Hush now, it's late and you need your sleep."

After carrying the poor girl to bed you nearly bump into Alastor, who's carrying a completely passed out Charlie, his ears folded back in embarrassment

"Aw~ You big softie...~"

"Not. A. Word."

You tap his nose playfully as you let him put Charlie to bed, suddenly getting a new surge of energy at the sight of him

Alastor finds you waiting for him in the hallway, arms crossed with a small smile on your face as you push off the wall to approach him

"Are you ready to go to bed, darling~?"

Your soft thumb rubbing against his bottom lip would normally be more than enough to coax him into bed, but the realization that you two were alone hit him like ice water

"Not quite, care to join me?"

He doesn't wait for you to answer, guiding you back downstairs and kissing your hand gently as the radio suddenly bursts to life

A love song plays softly on it, quiet so as not to wake up everyone else in the hotel but just loud enough for the two of you

You let your husband pull you against him, hugging his neck and leaning on him, taking in his scent as you savor the moment

The two of you sway together slowly, just listening to the music and enjoying the time alone together before it gets interrupted

Alastor presses his lips to your forehead and you can't help but nuzzle closer, the two of you sharing a loving look

"Mm... I've missed this...~"

He spins you lazily before pulling you back into his arms, one arm squeezing around your waist while his lips once again find your wrist

"My darling~ I've missed you~"

You laugh quietly and steal a kiss from your husband, pressing close and reaching up to play with his hair

You two are so caught up in each other that you don't notice the time go by or the fact that you're being watched

Curious eyes peek out at you two, hushed whispers and giggles dropping down from the railings as you two blissfully dance together below

You glance up before locking eyes with your husband, smiling as you reach up to pet a fuzzy ear

"I believe we're being watched~"

He hums and spins you again, tilting his head to look up at your audience, a wicked grin on his face

"Ah ah ah~ Peeping Toms will be subjected to a most unsavory punishment~"

There's a small squeak, the scrambling of footsteps, and suddenly, you two are alone again. Alastor pulling you against him and kissing your neck

"Now~ Where were we~?"

I hope you like it~

[aphrogeneias]

Rockstar!Eddie who has a crush on assistant!reader and has her running after him, after he comes to her with long list of demands and requests, only he doesn't really need her help at all, it's just an excuse to see her.

“These guys realize they're not Sabbath, right?” Rick sighs, “Like, what the fuck is this?”

Your boss barely even moves from where he's sprawled over one of the lounge chairs by the pool. When you arrived, he had to dismiss the girl that was sitting with him — on him, really — just to have you hand him the handwritten note without any preamble.

You don't know what to say.

“I, uh… I have no idea. Some roadie delivered me this and literally ran off. I think it's a prank, honestly.” You sigh.

It's a handwritten list of dressing room demands. A fur rug, expensive champagne, only red M&M's… the list went on. Quite ridiculous for a band on their first solo tour, playing on small venues across the country. Quite ridiculous for anybody.

To be honest, it disappointed you a little. You like these boys, which was more than you could say about the bands you've worked with in the past. Corroded Coffin came from nowhere, and while they aren't going anywhere soon, they are happy to just do whatever it takes to play their music, and you respect that.

This isn't very much like them.

Rick pinches the bridge of his nose, before pulling his sunglasses up, straightening them on his eyes. HE doesn't look directly at you as he gives you the piece of paper back, a silent dismissal. “Check it out with Munson. This bullshit has got his goblin little fingers all over it.”

You're happy the older man doesn't see how flustered you get at the mention of Coffin’s frontmen, and you're even happier to scramble out of there to hide the nervous smile that dares to rise to your lips.

Eddie Munson makes you nervous, more than you'd like to admit.

It's either his intense stare, those deep brown eyes that seem to know everyone's every secret — and you don't doubt they might — or the general aura of danger he exudes. Or, even, the sweet dimpled smile he tried to hide behind his hair, or the doodles he made during long meetings, or…

Maybe it's all of these things, but truth be told, it's probably also the way he makes you feel like you're the only person in the room when he looks at you, when you were supposed to be invisible beside Rick while he does his job.

You wonder if he does that to every girl he meets.

The elevator and the halls are a blur until you reach his door. Room 707, and you can hear the low strumming of an unplugged guitar from the inside, something that sounds like blues. You almost forget to knock, but when you do, the sound stops.

Eddie answers the door, then. “Oh, hi.”

The shirt with the cropped sleeves he's wearing shows off his arms, and the tattoos adorning it. You try not to stare at them as he holds the door open, not sparing you of his charming smile.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Instead of answering with the same sweetness, you get too ahead of yourself. “Is this a prank, Munson?”

You hand him the piece of paper back, and his expression changes immediately. A pink flush rushes over his cheeks, and he stares at it, as if he suddenly can't keep meeting your eyes.

You'd never seen him like that.

“Oh. Uh. Not a prank, no…” He stumbles over his words, letting out a nervous chuckle. “It's a…”

“Because it's gotta be a joke, and a bad one at that.” You stand your ground. “We couldn't even do that if we had a big budget, but with the one we have? You're lucky we even have water and towels at most venues…”

“It's not a joke, I promise. It's just that…” He interrupts your rant, looking away and sighing, then he moves closer, narrowing his eyes. “Can I level with you?”

“Please do.” You cross your arms, trying not to seem intimidated by his closeness.

“I didn't know how else to get your attention."

Your eyebrows shoot up, “You what?”

“I figured that if I wrote something stupid enough, Rick would send you to confront me because he doesn't have the balls to do it himself,” Eddie's flustered expression recovers into a confident grin, “and I was right.”

Swallowing back the nervous butterflies that seem to fly from your stomach and overflow through your body, you breathe out. “You thought you needed all this just for me to talk to you?”

“It worked, didn't it?”

You take a step back, trying to understand what just happened. His grin is infectious, because you smile despite yourself. “Next time, just say something. You'd be surprised.”

As you start walking away, backwards, still looking at him, Eddie gives you an unreadable look. He nods, though, lips trying to fight a bigger smile. “Next time?”

“For any professional inquiries, of course."

Finally, you turn your back, making your way back to the elevator. You meant what you said, but you know that's not what he meant.

"Professional. Sure."

The door clicked shut once again.

[archangeldyke-all]

Any ideas for Sevika boxer AU? Reader being her manager and both of them catching feelings for each other… 👀

EEEEK your drawings are just 🥰😍🌷💖 i'm gonna make this part of the little PT reader/ boxer sev story i've got going on, (part 1 here, part 2 here!)

men and minors dni

"quit lookin' at me like that." you chuckle.

sevika's smirk only grows, and she wraps her arm around your shoulders and pulls you toward her.

ahead of the two of you, silco's ranting into the phone about something. vander's behind you, mumbling strategies into sevika's ear. she's supposed to be focusing. your whole little posse is escorting her to the ring for the biggest fight of her life-- this is the time for her to pay attention.

this is not the time for her to be flirting.

this doesn't stop her, though. "you look good, you're my girl, how am i supposed to be lookin' at you?" she asks. you roll your eyes and gently elbow her. she grunts dramatically-- like she's not about to get the shit kicked out of her by a professional fighter.

"you're supposed to be focusing. i need you paying attention tonight-- need you to promise me you'll go easy on your shoulder." you say. sevika huffs and rolls her eyes like she always does, then she presses a kiss to your head.

"will you stop worrying?" she asks. you chuckle and shake your head no. sevika snorts. "i'll be fine. i've been training for months. i'm gonna go out there, kick some ass, and win."

"damn right you are." vander grunts behind you.

you shake your head. "and what makes you so sure?"

sevika shrugs and kisses your temple. "just gotta good feeling." she whispers.

five rounds, five minutes each.

with a one minute break between each round, this whole thing'll be over in less than half an hour.

it seems like nothing-- but you know from experience that when it's the love of your life getting the shit beat outta her-- it feels like forever.

add on top of that your training to identify strains and damage to the body, the fact that this is sevika's biggest fight yet, and all the pain her arm's been in for these past few weeks-- you're gonna be a nervous wreck tonight.

you kiss sevika goodbye as you enter the roaring arena, taking your spot at the side of the ring, watching vander and silco start to hype her up, massaging her shoulders and reminding her what they've been practicing.

announcers are droning on about her stats, fans are going crazy all around you, but the only thing you can hear is the pounding of your heart in your ears.

vander hands sevika her gloves, smacks her back, then heads over to sit beside you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "she's gonna win." he says.

you snort. "what makes you so sure?"

vander chuckles and shrugs. "just got a feelin'."

sevika meets her opponent in the center of the ring. they've fought before, they're friendly outside the ring-- and right now they're chatting idly as they wait for the match to start.

you see sevika's opponent ask her something, followed by sevika's wide grin, and her gesturing out at the crowd to you. you laugh when her opponent waves at you, waving back and then blowing sevika a kiss. she winks.

the ref enters the ring, and sevika's friendly demeanor drops in an instant, her 'fight face' intense and a little scary.

you get tense in your seat as you wait for the bell. and then it rings, and the first round begins.

you're no good at keeping score of who hits where. that's silco's job-- the ref's and vander's. your job is to remember each hit sevika doesn't take properly, each bruise that'll blossom on her skin, each muscle that's strained by her dodges.

you don't notice the good hits she gets in, the spinning kicks she lands, the way the audience and vander beside you erupt into fierce cheers for your girl.

all you notice is the way she falls funny on her ankle, the slight strain in her left swings, the endless kicks she takes to her ribs.

it's hell on earth. you count your lucky stars that sevika fights in a league that requires head protection.

and, just when you think you can't take it anymore-- the bell rings, and the first fight ends.

silco's at sevika's side in an instant, passing her water and dabbing sweat away from her face. you take a deep breath, and vander settles back in his seat beside you from where he'd leapt up in excitement.

"she's doing good." he tells you. you huff.

"it's the first round and her arm's already bothering her."

"yeah, but she's doing really fucking good." you blink over at your friend, taking in the sparkle in his eye. vander's been watching fights for years, he only gets like this when he's witnessing something special. something in your chest lightens a bit, and you relax in your char. "i'm gettin' a beer-- you wanna beer?" vander offers, waving down the vendor walking through the crowds of fans.

you chuckle and shrug, deciding to indulge yourself. the energy in the crowd tonight is electric, vander seems confident in your girl, and she's positively beaming as she chats with silco on the side of the ring-- you can take a break from being sev's PT and be her swooning girlfriend-- just for one round.

you try to watch the second round from vander's perspective. you still flinch each time she takes a roundhouse to the head, but you manage to gasp and laugh along with her fans when she punches her opponent hard enough to send her flying across the ring.

it's hot. sevika's got this cocky smirk on her face, and it only grows each time she dodges a hit or redirects her opponents attacks.

and when the bell rings, the first thing sevika does is lift her gaze to the crowd to find you, sending you a wink, like she could feel your appreciative gaze on her the entire time.

you have to chug the remainder of your cold beer to keep yourself from getting flustered.

vander hands you another beer without asking, and you laugh, cheersing your pastic cup to his.

"she's on fire!" he laughs. "i shoulda fuckin' known she'd fight like this tonight." he says.

you giggle and lean in so vander can hear your words over the roaring crowd. "i get that it's the title fight, but she's fought and won those before! why are you all actin' like tonight's so special... 's she winning more money?" you ask.

vander cackles and shakes his head. "you'll see."

round three starts with sevika taking a nasty blow to her face.

blood starts to decorate the mats-- and sevika shakes her head the same way she always does when her brain's been rattled in her skull. you cringe, and chug your beer. vander hands you his-- knowing how much you hate seeing her take headshots.

"she'll be fine."

"i'm gonna need more fucking beer." you grunt.

sevika manages to get her advantage back by the end of the third round, but by the time she's taking a sip of water beside silco, you've managed to drink four beers.

it hits you all at once-- and when the fourth round begins, you find yourself giggling and squealing like a girl as you watch your girlfriend fight.

most of your anxiety is floating away in a haze of alcohol. you're still worryidly rambling to vander when she takes a nasty hit "fuck, that's gonna bruise nasty," and "oh her poor ankle." but you don't dwell as much, and your enthuasitc praise intersperses your worries. "she's so strong, isn't she?" you sigh dreaimly when she pins her opponent for the tenth time tonight. vander chuckles and nods.

"she sure is."

"she's so pretty." you sigh.

vander laughs. "she's covered in blood and half her face is swollen up."

"i love her so much."

vander laughs, and the fourth round ends. "no more beer for you until the fight's over." he says. you nod, a little dizzy, and wave at sevika where she's catching her breath.

she beckons you to the side of the ring with a crooked finger, and you giggle, easily breaching the circle of security guards that surround the ring-- they all know who you are.

"hi baby." you giggle up at your girlfriend.

"hi, love."

"you're amazing." you sigh, nuzzling into sevika's hand where she cups your cheek. "you're bleeding." you pout, reaching up to swipe some of the blood trailing down her nostril up. sevika snorts.

"vander gave you beer?" she guesses.

"i was basically shitting myself watchin' you get beat up."

"thirty seconds, sev." silco says. she shoots him a thumbs up.

you're vaguely aware of the fact that the jumbotrons in the arena are zoomed in on your sweet exchange with your girlfriend, but you're too focused on her sparkling eyes to care.

"how's your head?" you ask.

"i'm fine." sevika chuckles. you glare at her.

"and your shoulder?"

"i'll be okay. i've got a really good PT." she jokes. you huff and roll your eyes, and silco taps sevika's shoulder. "i gotta go, love. five more minutes, 'n then you're mine." she teases, winking at you before she walks toward the center of the ring.

you have to be pulled out of your haze by one of the security guards gently tapping your shoulder and guiding you back to your seat.

"you two are ridiculous." vander teases when you return to his side. you huff.

"shut up."

"it's adorable."

the fifth round begins, and you let yourself get swept up in the anticipation. fans have been waiting all year for this fight-- some have been following sevika for her whole career-- you're all on the edge of your seats as the last round plays out and determines the title champion.

it's thrilling.

sevika gets a series of good kicks and hits in on her opponent, but then she lunges and pins sev to the mat. there's a struggle, sevika takes a few hits, and then they break apart and manage to get back to their feet.

for a moment, the two fighters dance in a circle around one another, waiting for a moment to lunge.

and then--

sevika back with her bad arm and throws a hit. her opponent ducks, grabs her bad arm, and throws her over her shoulder.

the crowd gasps with you as you all watch sevika get thrown to the ground.

you want to cry she cringes and makes to grab her shoulder before she has to throw her hand up to block a hit.

you want to vomit.

you want to run up to the ring and tell them to stop the fight-- that that was her bad arm, that she won't be able to fight anymore with the pain she's in.

but then, because she's sevika, your girlfriend jumps up from her spot on the ground, and continues the fight with her left arm limp at her side.

and even like that-- with her left arm limp and her shoulder swelling-- sevika makes it through the round.

the moment the fight ends, sevika collapses onto the mat, holding her shoulder and groaning. silco's by her side in an instant. you're there the next.

you vaguely register the crowd's worried chattering-- the announcer's going through sevika's history with her arm-- both still shocked that she managed to finish the round with her arm dislocated.

you grab sevika's face in your hands and guide her to look at you. "i gotta pop your arm back in place, baby. it's gonna hurt like a bitch." you say.

sevika gulps and nods up at you, and you kiss up her tears before arranging your hands to grip her arm properly. she wails in pain as you adjust her, and tears well up in your eyes.

"ladies and gentlemen... the judges have finished their deliberation... and it looks like we have a winner: for the fifth year in the row-- your reigning champion-- SEVIKA--"

the announcers are drowned out by the roar of the crowd and sevika's animalistic growl as you pop her joint back in its socket.

you blink up at silco as sevika catches her breath and starts to move her left arm, unsure if you had heard that correctly. "did she--"

"you fucking won!" vander shouts as he scrambles into the ring beside the three of you. he hovers over sevika where she's still cringing in pain on the ground, and wraps her up in a big hug.

silco helps you stand from the mat, wrapping his arms around you too as confetti starts to spray down on sevika's little posse.

the crowd bursts into cheers, and you asssume it must be because sevika's finally stood from where she collapsed.

but when you turn around to embrace her, you're confused to find her kneeling on the mat, still gripping her left shoulder.

"a-are you okay, baby?" you ask, crouching down to hold her face in your hands. sevika grins up at you, high off adrenaline and a win, and all the worry and stress in your chest evaporate at the sight.

she pulls her hand away from her shoulder and reveals something to you. you blink down at it in confusion-- something small and black and boxy-- and then it hits you.

sevika's kneeling. and holding a box in her hands. and she just won the biggest fight of her life, and there's cameras surrounding you and she's looking up at you like you're the only thing in the world.

"sev--"

"will you marry me?" she asks, grinning. you can't even hear her over the roar of the crowd-- you have to read her lips.

she flips open the little box and reveals a ring to you, and you lunge forward, pinning sevika to the mat for what must be the hundreth time tonight.

she doesn't fight you off though.

instead, she just laughs, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you in for a kiss as you sob and nod down at her.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

[amourjins]

lucky to have - h.yj

pairing , spider!jen x fem!reader

synopsis , being the city’s one and only spiderwoman is hard... and she definitely wouldnt be here right now, without her precious girlfriend.

content ahead , spiderwoman!jen, jen wears glasses all the time, shes forgetful, um um, reader is in college ???, fighting (as in physical gotta shoo off the bad guys!!), blood, uh uh idrk,, fluffy <33

a/n , i indeed do like jen w glasses better !!! 🙏🙏

(not proofread)

8:46am.

that was the time you woke up, due to yunjin’s buzzing texts that blared out of your phone, and into your ears. the texts were nothing much, just her sending ‘good morning’ texts and some voice messages.

you got from your bed, head all fuzzy from the way you slept last night. you headed over to your kitchen, opening up the fridge as the bright light that was contained inside dawned onto you. you grabbed a random snack out of the fridge, then closing it as you set it down onto the table.

you opened up your phone, seemingly, it was the perfect timing. you were met with a call from your girlfriend as you immediately picked it up. “hi, jen!” you spoke into the phone, “hi, yn!” you could feel your morning brightening up already by the sweet sound of yunjin’s voice. “did you sleep well?” you asked while getting a bowl out of the cabinets, “ehh.. it was okay. you?” she responded as you set the bowl onto the counter.

“it was.. not too bad.” you answered. “great great, okay, i have to go now, bye pretty girl.” she greeted goodbye as you did the same, hanging up. after taking a few seconds to process the conversation, you could feel your cheeks heat up a bit at the nickname.

‘pretty girl’.

5:46pm.

at that moment, yunjin was in an intense battle with some foes that she had just encountered. she did her best to fend them off, the only thing running around in her mind right now; you. they were doing significant damage, talking some trash as well. but yunjin could care less—this was all apart of her job. if she made it alive, then that would mean she could come see you. that was all that mattered.

meanwhile, you were studying. the dim light coming from your desk lamp flickered onto your notebook as you looked over at your book and laptop at times. studying was like hell for you, but at least you still tried your best.’

you checked your phone, seeing no texts from yunjin yet. maybe shes just having a busy day today, you thought, and you couldnt be more right. indeed she was. she was stuck in your mind all day, and you were wondering when she was gonna come visit so you had a reason to just stop studying. you snapped out of your trance, picking your pen up and starting to write down onto the white, thin paper.

time seemed to fly by.. fast, yunjin thought, looking down at her phone. the time read ‘7:04’. she was placed in an empty alleyway, lit up by the streetlights.. barely. she gripped her phone tight as she shot a web, flying up into the air, holding on. she looked around the city, trying to find her way back. (to your apartment)

the slight soreness in her body caused her to be less efficient when heading over to your apartment, but she was still determined to get there as fast as she ever could. for her one and only, girlfriend.

after some time of thinking (hanging on the web like a lost puppy), she finally calculated the way back, shooting multiple webs on and on until she finally made it. she popped up at your bedroom window, knocking. her position at the moment was.. uncomfortable to say the least. she looked like a weirdo trying to get into a rando’s apartment, which that definitely werent her intentions.

as soon as you heard the knock, your head immediately perked up. you excitedly got off of your seat, walking over to the window. you were greeted by your one and only, yunjin. she waved before you opened up the window, letting herself in. she sat herself down on the window frame.

“missed you,” she trailed off, looking around your messy room as you smiled. “i missed you too.” you responded back as she lifted up her mask, only to the point where you could see her lips. you could feel her intense gaze on you, as you couldnt help but blush. “how was it? troubling?” you questioned, turning back to your desk as you cleaned everything up, closing your notebook, closing the books that you had needed, and your laptop.

“yeah.. i havent ate yet.” she added in as you turned to her, a bit concerned. “really? do you want me to make you dinner?” you offered as she immediately nodded, “thatd sound great, pretty girl.” she giggled as she signaled for you to come closer, wrapping her arms around your waist as she pulled you in—your guys’ lips crashing onto one another as you wrapped your arms around her neck. you pulled away after a bit, taking a breath.

bright red blush dawned onto your cheeks as yunjin smiled. “..u-um.. the dinner?” you continued as yunjin got down from the window frame. “theres just one more thing..” she mumbled before taking off her mask, revealing all of the wounds and cuts. “..yunjin!” you scolded in disappointment as she just gave you an awkward smile.

and there you two were in the bathroom, yunjin standing in front of you as you were on your tippy-toes, trying to reach her face. beside you was a first-aid kit sat on a chair with all the essentials in it. “shortie,” she smiled before you just gave her a playful glare. she then bend her knees when you werent looking as you let out a sigh of relief. you patched up one of her cuts set on her forehead as she winced at the pain, “ow,” she mumbled. “dont ‘ow’ me! you shouldve been more safe,” you scolded once again, grabbing another bandaid. “okay okay, sorry!” she apologized before you secured some spots, as it seemed blood was still trying to escape the bandaid’s immense grip.

after she changed out of her spider-suit and into the spare clothes she always leaves in your room incase she visits, she headed over to where you were—the kitchen. she smiled, walking over secretly to surprise you. she wrapped her arms around your waist behind you, digging her head into the back of your neck. “hi, jen,” the action caught you off guard, and you had to admit, you were flustered. the only response you got back was a low mumble.

a few minutes after she let go of you, you finished making dinner for the both of you. “dinners ready, jen!” you called as she went over to the counter, setting herself down. you handed her her plate, and you could tell she was amazed. “wahh,, thank you, yn-ie!” she thanked, grabbing her chopsticks as you just smiled. you smiled at every little thing, clearing your throat.

after eating, a youtube run-through, and playing around, it was finally you guys decided it was time to go to bed. jen just figured she would spend the night,, again.

as you two got into bed, jen’s tall figure snuggling up against you, you felt happy. but then again, she’d have to go out into the city again. its her duty. you didnt mind at all, you’d wait for her, no matter how long it took. your train of thought was disrupted by her voice,

“yn?”

“yes, jen?”

“im so lucky to have you.”

a/n :: this is kind of all over the place but okay

[sixosix]

YOU GOTTA LEAVE BEFORE YOU GET LEFT | LYNEY

warnings profanity, angsty fighting (violence but it’s not descriptive), 3.7k words!

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The House of the Hearth is quiet around this hour, save for the soft snores coming from the rooms, or the clink-clink-clink of your polearm when hitting your arms. Lynette has already crashed somewhere, but Lyney can’t sleep a wink. At least, if you asked him what he’s doing in the training room alone watching you, that’s what he would say.

Thankfully, you haven’t asked; didn’t even acknowledge when he slipped into the room.

Lyney hasn’t been able to stop thinking about a few nights ago when he saw a glimpse of something real from you. Your smile and his newfound determination to defeat you to see more of it.

Sweat rolls off your temple, your breath visible in a silhouette of a misty cloud. You strike the air as if it’s insulted you greatly. With one final swing, you pause, turning to look at him.

Lyney can tell something is wrong. Your eyes are heavier; your movements are more sluggish than usual. This is the first time he’s seen you in a few days, with him going out for missions and coming back to hear that you’ve been cooped up in the training room day and night, frustration rolling off of you in waves.

Lyney smiles instead. “Would you like to spar?”

Your gaze is intense. Lyney could see a flame sparking in them when he asked you. But it fades when you ask, “Lyney, ‘Father’ has just returned yesterday, right? Has she talked to you at all?”

Lyney blinks. “Oh, um. No, I haven't really seen ‘Father’.”

Your shoulders loosen. “Alright.”

Then, you stand before him—all Lyney needs as an answer.

He’s gotten better with a bow, his only form of weapon during missions when they get a little more dangerous than prying information. But he only gets to feel the thrill of it when he’s facing you, who’s always one step ahead.

He bows. “It is an honor.”

Something of a smile flickers on your face when he looks back up. “You always say that whenever we do this.��

Lyney beams, pleased to hear you speak to him beyond anything related to training. “It’s no lie.”

“Then,” you twirl your polearm around in a hypnotizing circle, and Lyney feels a near-maniacal grin creep up his face, “overcome me.”

Lyney takes the first shot, no longer surprised when you barely flinch as you swerve. You move as swiftly as his arrows. He fires another shot, then another, and another at a rapid pace. As expected, you dodge and deflect all of them with ease. Even when not at your full best, you can easily conquer everyone.

But Lyney’s been watching closely. His eyes follow every shift, catching each minuscule movement of how you favor one side more than the other or how your eyes are fixed on his weapon and nothing else.

You start drawing closer, your steps so fluid that anyone else wouldn’t have noticed it. Lyney conceals a smile.

Your eyes widen when Lyney disappears into a twirl of cards, fading out of view, disappearing into nothingness, just like that.

You pant, looking around warily, “How did you—” only for your breath to hitch when Lyney materializes right behind you, kicking your weapon off your staggered grip and aiming his arrow right at your head.

His eyes are narrowed as if facing a real enemy—as if preparing to actually shoot with one wrong move. But that’s not right, because how could Lyney ever bring himself to hurt you when you smile at him like that?

“That was…new,” you say, breathing heavily. Your exhaustion is getting to you now.

Lyney’s lungs are doing just as bad. “Thank you,” he manages to say, sensing a compliment when he hears one. “It’s only right for a magician to have tricks up his sleeves, right?”

He doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s taken advantage of your state. Had you not been visibly tired, you never would’ve fallen for his trick. It’s victory, but he doesn’t feel as if he’s really won.

Now that you admit defeat, Lyney says, “Let’s take a break.”

To his delight, you murmur a yes. Now that’s victory.

The orphanage has become used to the sight of the magician twins tailing after you, with Lyney grinning smugly and Lynette close behind because, really, her brother was just tagging along. And some other times, they’ve become used to the sight of Lynette curled up on the couch with Freminet resting his head on her lap while you yell at Lyney to piss off, and he doesn’t piss off.

You’ve even come to admit them as friends. Mostly Lynette, though. Lyney’s just there because they’re twins.

Lyney pouts. “I mean, we’re basically friends now, right?”

You send him a strange look. “What are you talking about? No, we’re not.”

“Whaaat?”

You push his face away when he’s decided to come up all over your personal space. “I like your sister better.”

“Lynette and I are twins!” he whines.

“Completely different people, still.”

Lynette does a mischievous half-smile, blinking slowly. “Don’t tease him too much,” she said. “He’ll cry when it comes to you.”

Lyney splutters. “Lynette!”

Thankfully, the Archons are on his side. You don’t look too deeply into Lynette’s words, simply laughing and returning back to your food, chatting comfortably with his sister and Freminet. Despite all the bickering, Lyney feels warm inside.

“Lyney,” you say, catching his gaze. “Do you want to spar later?”

Lyney’s heart soars. “Yes, of course.”

In the comfort of their own room, Lynette strikes.

“Y/N is really nice,” Lynette says when Lyney is practicing tricks with his hat. “You think so, too, right?”

Lyney doesn’t know where this is going. He fumbles with the rose. “Mhm. Yeah.”

Tonight is particularly cold; the old-fashioned fireplace is barely doing anything. Lyney wants to check on the training room—it’s always much warmer there.

Lynette shifts beside him, and Lyney can feel the weight of her infinitely keen stare. “And you also think that you should tell me who you’re practicing those flowers for, right?”

“I—what—” Lyney’s face goes hot. “It’s for my tricks, Lynette! What are you trying to imply?”

His sister sniffs, as if Lyney is just an insignificant little thing. “I don’t know what you and Y/N have been doing lately, but I'm happy to see you happy.”

Lynette smiles at him. “I haven’t seen you like this for so long. I’ll do my best to not let anything take this away from you.”

Speechless, Lyney could only utter: “Lynette…”

In all honesty, Lyney doesn’t know what changed—doesn’t know how it shifted into something else he can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe it’s the fact that he and his sister have a home now, despite the fact that it’s an intelligence source for the Harbingers. Or maybe it’s…something deeper than that, something to do with you.

“It’s really nothing,” Lyney says softly. “You don’t have to do anything, okay? I promise you.”

Lynette nods, trusting her brother easily. “Okay. I just don’t want you to lose this.”

Ha, as if he could even bring himself to do that.

“Hey, is Lyney in this room?” someone yells, rapping on the door frantically. “Father’s looking for Lyney. Is Lynette here?”

“What…?” Lyney mumbles, turning to the window and belatedly noticing sunlight peeking through from the sides of the curtains. “Oh no. I didn’t get any sleep.”

“And ‘Father’ is looking for you,” Lynette says, amused. “Go, Lyney. Shoo.”

Lyney scurries off and nods politely at the person who had summoned him. He pads over to the dining table, where ‘Father’ is always waiting, desserts laid before her.

“Lyney,” she greets. Lyney felt the hair rise on the back of his neck, but also warmth spread throughout his chest, happy to see the person who had changed his and his sister’s life. “Come. Would you like a plate?”

Eating something sugary while he lacks sleep is not the brightest idea. “No, thank you, ‘Father’.”

“Alright,” she says lightly, taking a bite and indulging in her cake for a long pause. “You’ve been training hard, haven’t you?”

“Yes, ‘Father’.” He sits somewhere that’s a chair away from her, too nervous to sit close and too afraid to sit too far. He still doesn’t know what ‘Father’ thinks of him, or what to think of ‘Father’.

“And you’ve gotten stronger since receiving your Vision.” It sounds like a question, but that’s not right. ‘Father’ always knows what’s happening in the House of the Hearth.

“…Yes,” Lyney says slowly, unsure where this is heading.

Arlecchino leans back, pleased. “Hm. Good.”

Lyney isn’t quite sure what’s happening, but she asks about how he and his sister are doing, and they get involved in an almost-something-of-a casual conversation. Lyney’s nerves are on high alert the entire time, as if suspecting that this is a test. But after that, ‘Father’ dismisses him before Lyney can start being suspicious.

He doesn’t think too much of it. He leaves the room and feels as if he could melt on the floor from exhaustion.

Someone sees him and claps him on the back, startling him enough to wake him up. She glances at the door he just came out of and hums lowly. “Did ‘Father’ call for you?”

“Yes.”

“Ha,” she snorts. “Guess that’ll happen a lot when you're the next successor, huh? Lucky you.”

“Yeah,” Lyney agrees, though he doesn’t really know what it means. He doesn’t really care because at least ‘Father’ still wants to keep them around.

Most importantly of all, in this orphanage, Lyney has been having the time of his life. His sparring with you has led him to a tentative friendship of sorts. He can confidently say he knows you as well as he knows Lynette and Freminet. He’s been living in bliss, always pleased to have a home and a family to come back to, no matter how gruesome the mission they’re sent to.

He and Lynette have been seeing the House off with missions successfully fulfilled, and ‘Father’ has acknowledged their loyalty. Their worth. Whispers about successors get louder. Lyney pays them no mind—this is only them acknowledging his worth.

Days would pass. Lyney would perform tricks for his fellow orphans. Lynette would tell him that she’d rather not be in the spotlight. Days would pass. You would keep on overworking yourself, and Lyney would try to pull you away from it.

“Y/N,” Lyney announces his presence with just your name, standing by the doorway.

You don’t flinch nor even waver from your moves, nearly dancing with how swiftly you move across the grassy field. It’s easier to talk over the slash over your weapon this time, at least, with the sounds spreading across the evening air. Lyney can shout and he doesn’t have to fear waking up anyone.

He has to wake you up first, though.

“Y/N,” he tries again, his fingertips beginning to burn underneath the steaming plate. Despite his connection with fire, his skin is beginning to feel irritated—or perhaps it’s proof of how long he’s been carrying your dinner. “Your food’s gonna get cold.”

“Leave it there,” you finally answer, slowing to a halt. Your back is facing him, posture perfect, and Lyney’s star-struck even in moments like this.

“And you’re going to eat it?”

“I will.”

That’s what you said last time, and Lyney came back to a full plate, untouched even by ants. Lyney decides to stay, content with watching over you until you tire and give in. He’s been hearing that you’re relentless, not even sparing a single glance to anyone.

“Why have you been practicing so hard recently? Is ‘Father’ punishing you? Did you sneak out again?”

You deign to face him with a fierceness that could match the fire of his Vision. “As if ‘Father’ has even looked at me.”

Lyney blinks slowly. “...What?”

Then—it was that moment that Lyney realized this was more serious than he realized—you school your expression into something blank. He was asking the wrong questions. He feels like there’s an invisible wall between the two of you, even when he’s already far away.

“You all have something I don’t,” you say, lowering your weapon. “Tell me, Lyney, if I start slacking off, will she even look at me the way she does to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Your expression grows colder. “You wouldn’t understand. Who am I kidding? Just leave the food; I’ll eat it.”

“How do I know that?” he asks weakly.

“Take the hint, Lyney. I want to be alone right now.”

Days would pass. Lyney gets busier—his life gets more hectic. He starts performing on stages, small ones, but stages with props galore nonetheless. Lynette starts to feel more confident joining him, but she still has to work on her expressions. Days would pass. Lyney sees you less often. Your thread is snapping.

He enters the training room, where it’s been eerily silent. Not even Freminet nor Lynette tried to train today as if sensing danger from inside. But all he sees inside is you, staring silently at the wall, heaving.

Lyney sees your state and winces, your shoulder hiked to your ears and your expression unpleasant. “Y/N,” he calls out softly, “Are you okay?”

You’re really not, and it’s obvious, but how else does Lyney approach this?

You take a too-long moment to respond, eyes distant. “I’m…fine.”

Lyney hesitates, wildly looking around the room for something to distract you with. “Do you want to spar?”

“No.”

He should’ve known the moment he noticed you were acting strange: there’s something bothering you enough to leave you trapped in the training room. He tries to think hard about it, looking back at the first moment you were acting off. He comes up with nothing.

“Lyney,” you say, “you should leave.”

“No,” he says firmly. “I’m not leaving if you’re going to keep this up.”

“Lyney,” you say, facing him fully with a scowl. “That was not a question. Leave.”

“Y/N, I…” Lyney thinks and thinks. What has been happening recently? He’s been sent off for missions far too often that he hasn’t been able to notice this sooner. How long has this been happening? Why is this happening?

If anything, you’re far too prideful to show your weakness. To break down like this so suddenly… How will ‘Father’ react to this? Surely, she would put a stop to it if you were always next to her. But he hasn’t seen you next to ‘Father’ in so long. In fact, he’s…

Lyney stares cautiously. “Are their words bothering you?”

“They’re always talking.” That’s not a yes, but Lyney feels like he should take it as one. “Lately, they’ve been talking much louder than before.”

“That’s it, isn’t it? It’s about ‘Father’’s successor?”

Your mouth curls up in a snarl. “Don’t rub it in my face. You, of all people, shouldn’t ask that to me.”

Lyney’s heart sinks. So it was him who was causing this. “Whatever you’re hearing isn’t true.”

“What? Don’t make me out to be so stupid. You spar with me to gauge my weaknesses. You want to become the next successor.”

“I don’t want to become the next anything,” he pleads, instinctively taking a step back when you inch closer.

“That’s what it is, right? You see me as a challenge? So that’s what you meant?” Something is terribly wrong. You’re looking in his direction, but he doesn’t feel the weight of your gaze—like you’re only seeing through him.

Lyney frowns. He’s being cornered. “No, what—”

“I changed my mind,” you say, your shoulders tensing and the grip on your weapon tightening until your knuckles turn white. “You don’t want to leave? Fight me. Now. Prove that you’re worth more than me.”

“Y/N,” Lyney says lowly. “You’re not thinking straight right now. I don’t want to—”

You strike at his side. Lyney only manages to block it because of his experience with close combat from you, but this one is different. His eyes widen. That one hurt bad, leaving a buzzing ache on his skin. That’ll leave a bruise that won’t leave for weeks.

“Fight me,” you whisper, desperate, crazed. “Fight me.”

You demand it, but you don’t give Lyney a chance to react, attacking once again. Lyney blocks it off with his body and bites down a whimper of pain at the impact; at what sounded like the crack of bones.

“Y/N, stop—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl. “Bring out your weapon. Fight me. You’re the next successor, aren’t you?”

“Y/N,” Lyney says, trying to get a hold of your wrists. “Y/N, you’re crying.”

“I’m—” You inhale sharply, a sob wracking through your shoulders. “Shut up. Stop talking. You don’t know what’s happening. Fight me—just fight me. Why aren’t you fighting back?”

Lyney hates that you’re right—he doesn’t know what’s happening. He feels entirely useless. The person he looks up to, who has made him the better version of himself, and made him want to excel in everything he does for praise, is losing her mind right in front of him—he can’t even give you what you want.

“Why aren’t you fighting back? Isn’t this what you wanted?!”

“I didn’t want this!” Lyney shouts, moving swiftly to dodge the swing of your polearm. It misses him by a hair's breadth. Your fervid cries are making him lose composure. He doesn’t know what to do—doesn’t know how to make you stop.

“Pathetic,” you say, knocking him down. “This is who they’re calling the next successor? Beaten by someone who doesn’t have a Vision.”

Visions. Lyney learned that oftentimes, they dictate the fate and the potential of the orphans here. Those with Visions are sent off on more dangerous missions, drastically stretching their capabilities. And it’s true—Lyney wasn’t allowed to join Lynette on missions when she was the first to get one out of the two of them.

“You are still weak.”

“Shut up,” Lyney says, forcing bile down his throat. He doesn’t want to believe it. He wants to convince himself that you don’t mean that, but that means nothing if he thinks it, too. “Visions mean nothing.”

“To you, they don’t!”

Then, to Lyney’s horror, you swerve your entire body and strike to attack him with your everything. The bruises all over his skin sting, and his brain chants danger, danger. He panics, forcing a wave of fire to crash over and protect himself, but blue washes over his vision for a split second, and then he’s face to face with a tsunami of ice.

Ice.

Lyney blinks once, then looks down at his arm and realizes it’s been frozen over. It’s covered in ice, extinguishing the fire that’s enveloped his skin.

“What…?” he says dumbly, more confused than anything.

He turns back to you and sees you shaking uncontrollably, clutching a Cryo Vision to your chest. You’re looking at it as if it’ll bite you.

“No, no…” You look back at Lyney, eyes round. “Lyney—”

His eyes widened. “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I attacked you—you were just defending yourself—”

“Don’t console me, you idiot! I don’t know how to—get it off—” You cry out, roughly wiping away tears that are trickling down. The frost is creeping up on your face, turning your lips to blue. “Get away from me…!”

The numbness is getting to his arm, and he’ll probably get hypothermia if he keeps on ignoring it, but he can’t bring himself to do anything when you’re wailing and terrified of your own self.

Lyney’s hands hover around you, unsure if he should touch you and risk it. “It’s okay, I promise, just—just breathe—”

You slap his hand away, crumbling even more at the sight of his frozen arm.

“Y/N,” he breathes.

Then, your face is carefully blank, shutting him off—worse than any wall of ice. Then, you snatch your polearm from the ground and scramble away. Lyney rushes to follow after, but you’ve flicked your hand, and the door is blocked off by a thick wall of ice. Great. Just great.

Desperately, Lyney melts them away, but your footsteps have already gone out of earshot. It’s an answer in itself: Don’t bother. Take the hint, Lyney; you already messed it up.

“Fuck!” Lyney hisses, throwing his bow to the ground, causing it to crack and splinter against the cold tiles.

“Calm down,” he says to himself, thawing his arm with his Pyro. The sudden change in temperature hurts, but that doesn’t compare to what he’s feeling right now. “Y/N will be back. Calm down. Patience.”

It’s pouring uncontrollably outside. You shiver, shaking with each desperate step you take to get far, far away from the orphanage—from Lyney. The rain has melted the ice that’s crawling all over your face and fingers, but you can still feel it humming under your skin as if one wrong move and you’d kill something.

How ironic. Goading Lyney into using his Vision led to you getting yours. What a fucking joke.

You navigate through the crowd, hiding your Vision and speeding through. The gods have perceived you and blessed you because you’re worthy. Why only now? Why is it that it’s only when you’ve accepted you’re not worthy compared to Lyney?

You are still weak. You said it aloud, but you know more than anyone that it was not meant for Lyney.

A door swing opens, and you nearly slam onto it, if not for you skidding to a halt a second off.

The woman with brown locks and bright eyes who opened the door blinked curiously. “Hey, kid. What are you doing out here in this thunderstorm?”

You must look like a sight. Bruised and freezing, as flighty as a frightened animal. “I—U-Uhm…”

You’re given no script to follow this time. What should you say? What do you do?

You can feel all your limbs trembling. No—you can barely feel at all. “I’m fine. Miss. I was just… playing. I mean, running back home.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, taking it upon herself to ruin her dry dress and usher you inside. “Don’t worry. Come. Seek shelter here while waiting for it to die down.”

“I’m fine,” you try to say, but the inviting warmth inside has your next words dying. “You don’t have to do this, miss… I’m…”

Dangerous. Nearly killed the person that warmed his way through your heart. You frightened him. You frighten yourself.

“None of that.” She pokes your forehead, making you blink up at her in bewilderment. “You think too hard for your age. Come, I have tea and spare clothes.”

You obediently sit. Perhaps tea will help. With how tight you’re clutching your Vision, its frost is beginning to crawl up your arms.

i found it rly interesting lyney doesn’t wanna become the next successor, so i used it for plot! >:) ty for reading!!! if u reached all the way here im giving u a kiss on ur forehead

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz 

[writeriguess]

Part 2 for katsuki x reader where katsuki defends reader from bullies fic???? Pleeeeeeaaasseeeeeeeeeeee

The next few days after Katsuki’s unexpected intervention were strange for you. You’d always kept to yourself, maintaining a low profile to avoid unnecessary attention, and you liked it that way. But ever since the hallway incident, the atmosphere had shifted. Whispers followed you in the halls, not from the bullies, but from others curious about your connection to Bakugo. You couldn’t help but feel exposed, like a spotlight had been shined on you against your will.

What confused you more, though, was Katsuki’s behavior. He hadn’t said anything to you since that day. No follow-up, no acknowledgment, not even a passing glance in class. It was like it never happened. But you felt his eyes on you sometimes, sharp and fleeting, as if he was checking up on you in his own way.

Today was no different.

You sat quietly in your seat as Aizawa began his lecture, your focus drifting between the lesson and your own thoughts. Katsuki sat a few rows ahead, as usual, arms crossed and scowling like always. But you caught him turning his head slightly, just enough to glance in your direction. When he saw you looking, he immediately faced forward, his jaw tightening.

What was going on with him?

After class ended, you packed up your things quickly, eager to escape the building before you became the subject of more stares. As you made your way to the exit, you suddenly felt a strong hand on your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

You spun around to see Katsuki standing there, eyes burning with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Katsuki—” you began, but he cut you off.

“Walk with me,” he ordered, not waiting for an answer before pulling you along.

You followed him, too startled to protest. The two of you walked in silence through the emptying corridors of UA, the tension palpable. He led you to the rooftop, away from prying eyes and ears, before finally letting go of your wrist.

He turned to face you, and for the first time, you saw the internal battle playing out behind his fierce eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, visibly frustrated.

“What’s going on?” you asked, trying to steady your voice. “Why did you bring me up here?”

Katsuki inhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been trying to ignore this,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “But it’s pissing me off.”

You blinked in confusion. “What is?”

He locked eyes with you then, and the intensity of his gaze made your heart skip a beat. “You,” he said bluntly. “You’re what’s been driving me crazy.”

You took a step back, startled by the sudden admission. “What do you mean?”

He clenched his fists at his sides, as if fighting against every instinct to shut down and storm away. But he didn’t. Instead, he took a step closer to you, his voice lowering.

“I don’t get why I care so much,” he confessed, the words sounding almost foreign coming from him. “About what happens to you. About what people say to you. But I do, and it’s been eating at me.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. You never thought Katsuki Bakugo, of all people, would ever say something like that to you. He was always so closed off, so fiercely independent. But here he was, standing in front of you, raw and vulnerable in a way you had never seen before.

“Katsuki…” you whispered, unsure of what to say.

“I’m not good at this,” he admitted, his voice rough around the edges. “But I need you to understand something.” He stepped even closer, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “I don’t want to see you hurt. Not by anyone. And if that means I’ve gotta step in, then I will. Every damn time.”

You stared up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. His words were harsh, but you could feel the sincerity behind them. He wasn’t just protecting you out of some sense of duty. There was something more there, something deeper.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and gently placed a hand on his arm. “Thank you,” you said softly. “For everything.”

He stiffened at the touch but didn’t pull away. His gaze softened, just for a moment, and you thought you saw a flicker of something almost… tender.

“Tch,” he scoffed, turning his head to the side, though you noticed the faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Don’t get all sappy on me.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “I won’t,” you promised.

But as you stood there, the two of you alone on the rooftop, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you. Something unspoken but undeniably real.

And maybe, just maybe, Katsuki Bakugo was beginning to let you in.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[zebuie]

FASHION KILLA’

pairings; photographer!ellie x celebirty!reader.

SYNOPSIS; A photo shoot seems like a simple job, until you fall head-over-heels for the photographer.

Warnings— fingering (r receiving), eating out (r receiving), hair pulling (e receiving), think that’s all.

ways to help palestine

“okay, you ready?” Wren, your manager, asked while waiting for you outside the car. She held her hand out to help you get up from your seat. You took her hand and stepped out of the vehicle. In front of you, a tall, beige-colored fancy-looking building stood in your way. As you walked your heels, they made a sharp click noise across the sidewalk, sounding like a million little taps from your Valentino black heels.

As you walked your way up to the building, Wren stayed close by your side. At the front door, a security guard stopped you and checked your identification. Once that was cleared, he opened the door for you, and you walked through the lobby with a sense of purpose. Inside, you found yourself surrounded by a flurry of activity as people hurried around you, getting everything set up for the photoshoot.

For all your days in the modeling business, you have seen many photoshoots come and go. But this time, there was something different when you stepped onto the set. The lights dazzled and danced across your skin, highlighting your features in a way that completely captivated you.

You couldn't help but feel a sudden attraction to the talented photographer as she guided you into more and more poses for the photoshoot. Everything seemed to click into place, and you felt completely mesmerized and enraptured by her. you soon learn the photographer's name is Ellie,

the way she looked at you when you were talking to her manager made her heart skip a beat. A staff member snapped their fingers in front of Ellie's face, and she quickly came back to reality after realizing she had gotten a little distracted.

“Hey, els? you listenin’?” the staff member asked, “we're in the middle of a photoshoot, remember? what? you’ve gotta a crush on her or something? come on, take the damn pictures, already! gosh.” the staff member snapped at Ellie, “sorry-no it’s just..forget it.”

your thoughts kept drifting back to ellie, her green eyes and her touch, her everything. you thought about what it would be like to kiss her pink chapped lips, to feel her long veiny fingers inside of you..

The photoshoot continued, but you could not help but let your mind wander. you didn't know if it was just a crush or something more, but she was getting aroused just at the thought of her together.

a few hours later, the photo shoot finnaly wrapped up, you were dead tired, exhausted but relieved. you couldn’t believe you pulled this off and got through this photoshoot, you were sitting in a room all alone on your phone, Ellie came over from behind you, a subtle smile as she walked over.

Ellie broke the silence first and her raspy voice filled the silent empty room. “hey, I’m Ellie.” she said as she held her hand out for you to shake. she introduced herself with a warm smile, which set you at ease.

"You started to introduce yourself, "I-I'm…," but Ellie cut you off with a chuckle. "Oh, I know who you are," she said, her tone playful.

The room fell still as the two of u shared an awkward moment. You finally found your courage and asked, "Can I kiss you?" Ellie started to blush and stuttered, "Oh—," before you just went ahead and began kissing her, leaving her with no time to reject or object.

Ellie's initial surprise quickly turned into a warm, welcoming embrace as her lips parted under your touch. The kiss grew increasingly passionate as she gently wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you closer. You felt a wave of happiness wash over you as their tongues intertwined in a sweet dance, deepening the intensity of the moment.

Eventually breaking for air, Ellie gazed at you lovingly with red cheeks, whispering "I want more." Her soft fingers traced along your cheek before slowly trailing down your neck to rest on your chest.

As Ellie's fingers traced their way down your body, she paused just above the edge of your panties. Her eyes locked with yours as she hesitated for a moment, her breath warm against your skin. With a soft sigh and an encouraging smile, you nodded gently,

giving her the go-ahead. She slid her fingertips underneath the material of your underwear, tracing slow circles along the sensitive flesh beneath. “Fuck-Ellie…” Your hips unconsciously bucked towards her touch as waves of pleasure flowed through you.

Sensing your growing desire, she delved further into your core – sending shivers of ecstasy coursing through every inch of your being. Her strokes grew slower and more deliberate as she pushed you closer to blissful release - her other hand softly caressing your face in synchronization with her tender ministrations.

The rhythm of Ellie's fingertips intensified as she skillfully worked you towards climax. Her mouth moved down your body, her warm breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin as she paused for a moment between each kiss, “Ellie pl-please..” teasing and tantalizing you further.

You could feel the heat building within you as her touch grew more urgent and insistent - waves of pleasure crashing over you in a euphoric tide. “S’okay baby..relax-I got u…” ellie whispered. Your muscles tensed tightly beneath her touch just before climax claimed you with unbridled force, wracking your entire body with intense bliss while Ellie continued to stroke and kiss every sensitive spot,

Without any hesitation, Ellie moved lower between your legs, her lips brushing against the damp folds of your pussy. u lightly grabbed her hair, you were a complete whimpering mess. Her soft breath washed over your sensitive flesh as she parted you with gentle fingers before delving deeper – her tongue teasing at your clit, She probed inside you with two fingers while her tongue continued its magic on your hard little nub, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing through every nerve ending in your body. You grasped onto the couch tightly as a climax built rapidly towards its peak – Ellie suckling gently on your most tender spot,

The intensity of Ellie's actions sent shivers down your spine as she drove you wild with a perfect balance of teasing and pleasure. You could feel the heat radiating from her mouth enveloping your swollen clit as she moved lower, trailing wet kisses down to your dripping entrance.

She pushed two fingers deep inside you, filling you completely while curling them just so - stroking that sweet spot within that made it impossible to hold back any longer. With each thrust of her fingers and lashing of her tongue, wave upon wave of ecstasy engulfed you until finally – in a blinding flash of passion – climax consumed you in its warm embrace. Your muscles tensed around Ellie’s hand as pleasure overtook your entire being, leaving nothing but satiated bliss in its wake.

[weepingwillowwonder]

Horny Hazbin Hotel Thoughts: NSFW AHEAD [Minors DNI! 🔞] -> -> ->

[Part 1]

This is Angel Dust's PART 2!!!

Reactions to Shy!Reader asking to have sex/initiating sex

CW: Embarrassment/Humiliation, Dry Humping, Dirty Talk, Daddy Kink, Switch!Angel Dust, Fingering, Penetration, GN! Reader, Premature "Finish", No Protection, Lube

Angel blushes himself and an excited grin slowly makes its way to his lips, “You horny, baby?” You gasp and suddenly look up at him from the bluntness of his question. “You know…” He starts, lifting his leg slightly and grabbing your hips to guide you on his thigh, “Daddy will always give you what you want, all you gotta do is ask..” 

---

"Ohhh, Angel!" You gasp out his name. The contact has you rutting against him harder. As you attempt to ground yourself by holding onto him, Angel's grip tightens on your hips and he giggles seductively in your ear, "Mm, wrong name babycakes, wanna try that again?"

Instead of responding, you nuzzled your face into his shoulder and began slowly placing kisses along his neck. He chuckles out a moan as you playfully suck and nibble on the area, leaving tiny marks as you go. He sighs and lets you continue, with a hand briefly cradling against the back of your head.

"You ignoring me..?" He mumbles, before quickly flipping you onto your back. Angel hovers over top of you, two hands still clutching your hips and the others now grabbing you at your wrists. He pins your hands above your head and grinds his hardening cock into your core. Angel licks his lips as you let out a hiss, your arms struggling against his grip and legs instinctively closing around him to chase more of the feeling. "Aah, daddy!" 

He hesitates for a moment, eyes fluttering closed, then continues slowly grinding into you, "Fuuuck..So you can be good for me, huh?" He groans out, now intertwining your fingers together. "Why don't you ask daddy for what you want, hm?"

You pout and look away bashfully before mumbling something intelligible. His hips slow to a still as he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. While he adores getting you riled up, he still wants to make sure you’re comfortable… Tilting his head in the direction you were trying to shy away to, Angel asks the question again, only this time much softer. “Hm? What do you want, baby?” He breathes out.

You take in a shaky breath, cheeks heating up as you avoid making eye contact. He gives you an encouraging smile while he waits patiently for you to respond. "Will you kiss me daddy, please?" You ask softly, your eyes finally flickering to his. He takes a moment to gently squeeze your hands. "Oh, that's cute.." He murmurs, giving you an easy smile, "Of course, sweetheart." 

Angel leans down to press his lips to yours in a gentle embrace. You eagerly kiss back and sigh against his lips, beginning to feel more relaxed underneath him. As the kiss becomes more intense, your mouth opens slightly as you moan, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. He explores the inside of your mouth, brushing his tongue along yours and coaxing you to follow his lead. You submissively comply, pressing your own against his. The growing heat between your legs makes you arch closer to him, pressing your chests together.

Your tongue dances with his briefly, fueled by your growing arousal. He then pulls your tongue into his mouth and sucks on it, savoring the soft, desperate sounds that his actions pull out of you. Before you pry yourself away breathlessly, he playfully grabs your bottom lip between his teeth, looking at you with half lidded eyes. 

"Mm…You sure a kiss is all you're lookin’ for baby..?" He asks in a sultry tone, knowing very well from experience how it affects you. You've made jokes before about how dramatic he sounds in his films, brushing it off as distracting, maybe even a little tacky… But Angel knows how you really feel. He doesn't even need to ask you about it because your reactions speak for you (so does your browsing history). Oh how you squirm when he jokingly talks that way to you, teasing you, how you get flustered so easily. And in moments like this when you're squirming underneath him…you can't hide the way your breath catches or the growing wet spot of your arousal between your legs.

“...Cause daddy just wants to make you feel oh so good…” You can feel his thumbs fiddle with the waistband of your pants, waiting for you to respond. “...Isn't that what you want, sugar?” When you give him a shy nod, he grins mischievously. “Oh but babydoll,” he coos, letting go of your wrists and sliding his hands down his own chest, hands stopping at the bulge between his legs.  “You'll have to use your words if you want it...”

While his other fingers dance around the skin of your waist, he trails his fingers along himself, moaning loudly as he ruts his hips into his hands. His smirk grows at the visible frustration on your face, gripping himself to show the full outline of his cock in his pants. “Angel you jerk! Pleaseee, want you to make me feel good…” you huff out. Suddenly stting up, you help him slip off his shirt, mumbling a quiet, “Take this off…”

He lets go of himself, snickering and assists you in undressing him. He playfully pushes you back on the bed and slides his hands up your shirt, making sure to brush his fingers against your tummy and chest. His hands continue upward, baring your top half for him and flicks his thumbs against your sensitive nipples. When you respond favorably, he pinches them gently and rolls them in his fingertips. “Look at your cute little nips…nice and hard for me already...” 

Before you can respond, he leans down and wraps his lips around one of the buds, gently sucking. All you can do is reach up to his hair to pull him close as a needy whine escapes you. He takes his time, suckling and nippling at the sensitive skin, his tongue wiggles against the very tip. His arms wrap around you as you squirm, struggling to lay still as he plays with your sensitive chest.

Through the overstimulation, you barely feel him slipping off your pants until a hand comes to gently stroke between your legs. A finger finds the sticky damp spot of your underwear and slowly circles the area. “This all for me?” He asks breathlessly as he looks at you from your chest. At this point, the throbbing between your legs increases at his touch and you can only throw an arm over your face as your hips automatically tilt up to meet his fingers. “Please Angel, I c-can’t…!” 

Hearing the desperation in your plea, he finally grabs the waistband of your underwear and slowly drags it down your legs, taking his time to let the soaked fabric unstick itself from where your arousal was leaking. Ignoring your whines for him to hurry up, he reaches over to his nightstand drawer to pull out a bottle of lube. 

“I know, I know, ya baby. Gotta prep you first…” Angel mutters as manhandles you onto your back. He opens the bottle and squirts lube onto two fingers, making sure to coat the digits thoroughly.  He uses his other hands to spread you wide and begins to work a finger into your hole. “Don’t need it..! Fuck me Angel, please! Oh my…!” You gasp out as he pushes in, head throwing back. 

Angel playfully rolls his eyes and shakes his head at you as he continues to pump a finger into you, “Not gonna take ya until I’ve got ya stretched reaaaaal nice, baby…” He adds another finger. “Wouldn’t even be able to fit yet anyway….tight ass fuckin’ hole..”  he grunts and holds his hand still as he watches you fuck yourself back on his fingers. 

“P-promise I’m ready, p-please put it in! I can..-oh! I can take it!” You’re shamelessly crying out for him now, swaying yourself back to stuff yourself when he adds another one of his fingers. “..please daddy want you to fuck me so hard! Need it..” When Angel hears the pet name, he growls, making you gasp as he suddenly yanks his fingers out, 

“You naughty little tease…” He spits out, lining himself up at your entrance. “What happened to the shy act you had goin’ on, huh?” He presses in the tip slowly, letting you feel the stretch of him. “S-shit…Acting like such a slut now, begging for cock…” he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your middle as he fucks more of himself into you. “A-ah..Might have to get you in the studio with an act like this..”

Embarrassed at his lewd commentary, you bury your face in the blanket beneath you and continue to meet his thrusts. Angel whimpers when he bottoms out, fingers digging into your hips. The way you’re squeezing his cock has you both openly panting, “Ohhh, baby..! Y-you gotta...” he starts, his own hips stuttering as he tries to find a rhythm. “Ya gotta loosen up for me sweetheart.. Can’t with you s-squeezin’ me like that…!” 

You try to relax, you really do, but the delicious way he rubs against your walls with every thrust has you keening. You’re drooling when he accidently drags across that special spot that makes you see stars. “Oh fuck, daddy!” you practically scream, arms giving out underneath you. Turning your face to the side, you reach to messily rub yourself between your legs, fingers soaked with your own fluids. When your orgasm unexpectedly rushes through you, Angel quickly slaps a hand over your mouth, muffling the noises that escape you. 

Under normal circumstances, he would talk you through it, offering sweet or teasing words of encouragement depending on his mood. But today, he could barely hold himself together. Maybe it was the way you so easily called him daddy, letting him have control in a space where he normally wouldn’t. Maybe it was the way you lost yourself in the feeling of him, enough so to let go of your nervousness to go after what you wanted. Regardless, the combination of the way your little hole was clamped around him and the sporadic movements of you fucking yourself on his cock, had him doubled over as his orgasm forced its way through him. 

Angel bucks hard into you as he emptied himself into your hole. He looks down to watch his essence spilling out the sides, shuddering at the sensitivity of his member still being milked from your movements. His orgasm knocks the wind out of him, eyes glazing over as his body trembles from his release. He whimpers when he slides out of you, slumping over on the bed next to you. When you move to lay next to him, you notice the flustered look on his face, “Are you alright…?” you ask, cuddling back up against his side, head tilting to look at him. 

Oh how the tables have turned. He hides his face in your shoulder, “Y-yeah..I uh…didn’t mean to finish so…quickly. Dunno what happened..” He stutters out, blush growing on his cheeks. You embrace him tightly against you, and giggle at how cute he seemed in this moment. “It's okay, Angel. if it makes you feel any better, I did too…” You respond affectionately. “You just made me feel so good, couldn't help it…” You give him a shy smile, which he mimics and nods, appreciatively. 

Feeling bold, you swing a leg around him to straddle his body, earning a curious look. Two of his hands immediately find your hips and you intertwine your fingers with the other two, moving to pin them above his head. Grinning cheekily, you look down at him, reveling in the way he raises a questioning eyebrow at you. “What are you-” He starts. 

You stick your tongue out playfully, “Maybe next time you should call me daddy…” With your words, the blush grows on his face and so does his softening member between his legs. Your breath quickens as he humps up against you, sliding his member perfectly between your legs. You both let out a moan. He chuckles breathlessly, matching your grin. “Next time? How about right now…daddy?”

[twst-drabbles]

Malleus 11

Summary: You offered Malleus your lap as a joke after Grim’s tantrum. Malleus accepted the offer.

(It’s been on my mind and I felt this would’ve been so funny to have as an option. I want to hold. I want to spoil.)

“Nah, it’ll be too crowded. I want to sit here!” Grim demanded, smacking his paws on the table. You had half a mind to flick his forehead to get him to behave, but honestly, you’re in the mood for some fun.

“Well, in that case,” you leaned back in your chair, catching Malleus’s ever intense stare with ease, “Hornton, how about you sit on my lap instead? Grim clearly doesn’t want to sit on it.”

You meant that entirely as a joke. Mozus knew of your usual antics, so his reaction was a mild stiffening of his shoulders and a world weary sigh. Truly, you must be a most tiring janitor to deal with.

Azul, however, choked up on his spit and pounded on his chest to clear it up. Idia sputtered and upon realizing he made way louder noises than usual, shrank into himself and nearly vanished under his collar. Silver was more or less stone still, like you slapped him awake. And Sebek?

His hand immediately went to his sword, clearly ready to fight for ‘His Lord’s’ honor, if his thunderous face was of any indication.

“Y-you! How dare–!” The crack in his voice almost made you lose it.

“Ho… Aren’t you a bold one?” He practically purred out your name, “Are you ready to deal with the consequences if I accept the offer?”

…that’s not a rejection. Oh shit, that is not a rejection. Fuck, now you gotta commit to the bit! If you back out now, you’re gonna be the asshole for offering in the first place.

That and as much as you enjoy Malleus’s presence, if you take back the offer, he’s going to chide you like you’re a fickle and impulsive kid. That treatment will just grate on you and it will ruin your whole day. You hate it when that pops out, that worldview of fae being superior to humans, and therefore should be cared for like children.

So, to avoid that entire headache, you pushed back to make more room and patted your thighs with a sharp smile.

“Go on ahead, my lap can take it.”

You heard a dying wheeze come from Idia and a nervously laughing Azul.

Malleus laughed along with him, loud and joyful. He placed a hand on the back of your chair and managed to calm himself enough to say, “In that case, I accept.”

Grim gave a cheer at his free seat and Malleus graced his legs over your thighs before settling quite comfortably on them. He straightened his back, as though sitting on a very well crafted throne. Malleus was practically sparkling as he put a hand on his chin, little chuckles escaping him as he let himself enjoy this atmosphere.

You can’t say you weren’t enjoying yourself, though you do hate that you put yourself into this can of worms. Oh well, it’s not the worst. You’re comfortable and that’s enough.

Just for a bit of revenge, you wrapped an arm around Malleus’s waist and pulled him in closer.

The light, “Oh!” escaping his lips had you smiling.

[autisticlancemcclain]

“You’re nervous.”

“Hnnngh,” Keith says, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He looks straight ahead, left leg bouncing, hair pulled back into a ponytail but flyaways everywhere. He keeps having to push up his glasses when they slide down his nose, nudged forward by all the tension in his eyebrows. “Being stressed before a stressful situation is not being nervous, Lance, it’s just my brain responding like a brain.”

Lance hides a smile. “You’ve met my family before, baby.”

Keith slows to a stop as they approach their turn, looking at Lance instead of the road for the first time in twenty minutes. His indigo eyes are wide and pleading. Lance is distracted by the tiny mole beside his nose.

“I’ve met your mom,” he says emphatically, breaking eye contact with Lance to crane his head to the left, checking over the hill for any cars. He’s far more careful than he needs to be — there’s never anyone on this road. But Keith is always endlessly careful when he’s driving other people around. “I’ve met your siblings. I’ve met your abuela. I’ve met the twins.”

“Mighty number of people,” Lance agrees. He looks at his boyfriend pointedly. “All of whom love you.”

“Because they love you,” Keith stresses. “You’re, like, their favourite person. You hyped me up so of course they have a nicer view of me. But this is like — your great grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles and, I dunno, second sister in law five times removed —

“Not how that works,” Lance interjects, amused.

“—and now I gotta impress them all? At once? I still don’t know how I did that with everyone else! I panicked! I forgot all my lines and conversation starters! I just — was awkward, and they were cool with it because your family is cool!”

“Ah, yes, you were yourself and people liked you,” Lance says, nodding sagely. “How bizarre.”

Keith looks at him imploringly. He has a — really cute nose, holy shit. It’s crooked from the three separate times it’s been broken and Lance is kind of obsessed with it. All he can think about is pressing a kiss to the bridge of it and watching how Keith will crinkle it on reflex. He has to fight back a giggle.

“I am going to get eaten,” Keith says miserably. “My luck is going to wear out. I’m gonna say something stupid and offend your third cousin or trip over someone’s toddler and destroy your mother’s flan by crashing into the table and upending hot coffee on an elderly person. Then I’ll get arrested for assault and you’ll have to visit me in prison and my cellmate will make a comment about you or something and I’ll have to kill him and then I’ll get retried and the death sentence, probably, and then Red will bust me out of prison and cause intergalactic meltdowns and —”

Lance can’t hold back anymore. Quick as a dart he reaches out, fisting Keith’s collar, and yanks him over the gearshift, kissing him softly and soundly until Keith sighs, surprise fading into something calmer, relaxed. His hand comes up to cup Lance’s cheek.

“You need a Xanax,” Lance says gently as he pulls away.

Keith huffs, the manic look in his eyes replaced with something much softer. Relieved, even. “Yeah, probably.” He tears his eyes away from Lance, rechecking his turn and finally actually putting on his blinker and moving onto the right road. His free hand reaches over the gearshift and Lance grabs it, tangling their fingers together and resting them in his lap. “I just — I want your family to like me.”

Lance smiles, a wide one that brings a flush to his cheeks and makes him shy, even though he’s not self-conscious; a smile that makes something flutter so intensely in his stomach that it feels so intensely private.

“They’ll like you,” Lance says simply.

Keith exhales. His hand tightens. Lance squeezes back.

The rest of the drive is easy.

———

By the time they make it to Lance’s great-grandmother’s farm, he can tell that some tension has crawled back into Keith’s shoulders. But he’s always been brave, when fighting dictators or meeting parents, and doesn’t hesitate to pull into the gravel driveway and park the car. He squeezes Lance’s hand again before letting go, stepping out of the car and heading to get their stuff.

“Tío! Tío!” scream two voices, and Lance doesn’t even have half a second to brace himself before Nadia is launching herself at his stomach. He manages somehow to spin them both around to offset the momentum, keeping them both upright. Keith is not quite so lucky — Lance hears a slam, a startled oof, and then he sees their bags go flying out of the corner of his eye.

“Jesus Christ,” Keith wheezes, flat on the ground with Sylvio crowded on top of him.

“I got you!” the boy crows, scrambling off Keith’s body in order to adequately dance around in victory. “You went splat!” He whirls around to face Lance, still dancing around. “Tío Lance! Did you see?”

Lance adjusts Nadia on his hip, making no attempt to hide his amusement. “I did. You got him good, buddy.”

Beaming, Sylvio turns back to Keith, who’s finally managed to get enough breath back in his lungs to stand.

“You got me good,” he wheezes in approval.

“Just like you showed me!”

There’s no mistaking the smugness in Sylvio’s voice, the challenge, the I’m-little-you’re-big-and-you’re-a-loser.

Keith recognises the challenge easily, eyes glinting, and before Sylvio can run away Keith scoops him up, tossing him over his shoulder and whirling them around ‘til he’s dizzy.

“Just like I showed you, champ. Think you can get out of this one, though? It’s easy!”

Sylvio shrieks, pounding on Keith’s back with fists weak from laughter. Nadia squirms in Lance’s hold, so Lance sets her down, and in seconds she’s run and attacked Keith’s other side, climbing up his legs to try and free her brother. Keith scoops her up, too, throwing her over his other shoulder as she laughs just as shrilly.

“Clearly neither of you learned very much!” he shouts, grin so wide it practically splits his face. His already precariously dangling glasses slide right off his face but Keith doesn’t even spare them a glance, stepping over them easily and shaking the twins as he goes. “You’re trapped!”

It doesn’t take the bright twins very long to unite forces, attacking Keith with renewed vigour all at once. Lance bends down as they wrestle, scooping up Keith’s glasses and their discarded bags.

“He’s good with them,” Lisa says, sidling up beside him and sliding her hand around his waist. Lance mirrors her, squeezing.

“He thinks they’re hilarious. He loves them to pieces.”

“Believe me, they love him too. I heard about Uncle Keith so much on the drive down that I was tired of him before you two even got here.”

Lance snorts. “Yeah, right, dweeb. No one else here reads Jane Austen. You need your nerd buddy.”

“Indeed,” she says, grinning. She pats him on the hip, pulling away and taking one of the bags slung over his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get your stuff dropped off. Marcela will want to fuss over you, I’m sure. She hasn’t seen you since your last mission.”

Lance looks back at his boyfriend before following her, making sure he doesn’t need Lance’s help. The twins have wrestled him into doing their bidding, it looks like, or more likely he didn’t even put up a fight, and sit on one shoulder each, guiding him around the property with shouts and points and frenzied gesturing. Keith has his hand locked firmly over each set of knees, careful not to let them fall, as he wobbles around to make them gasp and laugh.

Lance smiles. He’s fine.

———

Keith finds him within the hour, Nadia and Sylvio off to play with their cousins.

“You abandoned me,” he pouts, hand wrapped around his elbow.

Lance notices, idly, that he’s slouching again; that his ponytail has been abandoned entirely and his hair curtains his face.

Hm.

“You were busy being a doofus,” Lance teases, brushing his hair out of his face. He nobly resists the urge to quote Regina George. “One of us has to be the mature one. We wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong impression about the saviours of the universe.

“You’re hiding out on a random couch on your phone,” Keith deadpans. He glances down at the screen. “You’re watching a seven year old vine compilation. On mute.”

“Like an adult,” Lance says primly. “Watch with me.”

Keith rolls his eyes fondly, but slides on the couch behind Lance, arms wrapped around his waist and chin hooked over his shoulder. Lance digs in his pockets until he finds Keith’s glasses, twisting around to slide them on his handsome face. His hands linger on Keith’s temples. Keith’s smile is small and crooked and bares the tiniest peek of crooked incisors, and Lance’s heart flutters.

He leans back into Keith’s chest as he plays the video, watching a compilation of dorky videos he’s seen a thousand times. He feels Keith’s grin press into the juncture of his neck as he starts to mumble along. His hand rests just under Lance’s shirt, flat on his stomach. Lance fights the urge to squirm.

You Are In Your Abuela’s House, he reminds himself firmly. Your Ancestors Are Watching You. And Jesus, Probably.

Luckily, someone calls out their names before Lance really needs to find a vat of ice water to dunk himself in.

“Leandro! Keith! Come eat before your hog of a brother takes it all!”

The two of them don’t even need to pause for a moment before throwing themselves off the couch, scrambling towards the kitchen at top speeds because Marco absolutely will eat their portion of the food. Not even because he’s hungry for it, just because he’s a butthead who thinks it’s funny.

“This is your fault,” Keith informs him, careening around a questionably placed side table.

“Nothing is ever my fault ever in the entire universe,” Lance shoots back.

(Is it Lance’s fault? Possibly. But in his defense, the several years he spent as a child waiting for Marco to be distracted before eating his favourite thing on the plate still make him crack up when he thinks about it. Marco just got so mad, every time. Plus his eyes bulge a little when he loses it. How was Lance ever supposed to avoid poking that bear?)

Luckily, they make it in time to wrestle a plate away from Marco’s snickering ass.

“Keith, Lance,” Lance’s mother greets warmly before Lance can crack a plate over his brother’s head. “I’m glad you made it!”

“Mother,” Lance squawks dramatically, hand flying to his chest, “I am the second to be greeted? You’re son? You’re youngest angel? The one who went missing for several years and returned to you, prodigal?”

She reaches over and flicks Lance in the forehead. Keith snorts. Marco cackles.

“Keith called me on the flight home,” she explains, ruthless. “So he is the son, and you are the son-in-law.”

Keith flushes as he always does when Mamá pairs them like that, when they’re both her sons, when she implies what it implies. Lance lets the warmth of that expression soak into his bones, deep in through his back, from every point Keith is touching him.

“I was sleeping off being maimed!” Lance despairs.

It does him no favours. Mamá waves her hands wildly, setting down her own plate in favour of placing her hands over her ears. “Gah! Sh! Do not tell me of these things! I am meant to pretend your job is nothing more than ornamental! Do not ruin that for me!”

“It was the slightest ever maiming,” Lance mutters, sullen.

Keith visibly bites back a retort to that, no doubt out of respect for Mamá.

(Lance knows that Keith would have been the world’s biggest mama’s boy had he grown up with Krolia. He has shared this hypothesis with Shiro, who had laughed so hard upon hearing it that he had sprained a muscle in his neck, and then explained later with a heat pack and a wryly smiling Adam that Keith used to scold Shiro for pushing himself with exact quotes from Shiro’s mother herself.)

“Nobody ever wants to hear my side of the story,” Lance laments.

Keith bends down to kiss him on the cheek.

“That’s because you are a liar,” he says kindly.

Lance catches his chin before he can pull away, kissing him to shut him up.

They head outside to join everyone else, plates stacked high with food and plastic cups balanced precariously with spare fingers. Keith starts to slouch again as they walk out the sliding screen door, but he keeps his hair out of his face, eyes flitting between different people. It helps that hardly anyone spares him half a glance, too used to random new people in such a big family.

“Hey, Patito! Over here!”

Lance whips his head up at the familiar voice, breaking into a wide smile when he sees his sister’s wilding waving hand. Keith, too, seems relieved when he catches sight of Veronica, rushing over almost faster than Lance is.

“Hey, losers,” she greets, flicking water from her cup at them as they sit across from her. “Took you long enough to get here.”

“Lance is a distraction and danger to the road,” Keith says immediately, because he is a snitch. He is also unfortunately very quick and manages to duck away from Lance’s pinch.

Veronica snorts. “Believe me, I know. Every ride back to the Garrison on weekends was a near death experience because he kept smacking me every ten seconds. A menace.”

“You manipulator!” Lance accuses. “I slapped you because you teased me! Constantly!”

Keith and Veronica share sharp, matching grins. Lance takes a nanosecond to ponder what he ever did to deserve the sufferings of their friendship.

“That’s because you’re so goddamn easy to rile up, sweetheart,” Keith says with a wink.

Lance attempts to shove him off his chair. Unfortunately, while he does flail backwards, he manages to stay upright.

“You two were supposed to hate each other,” he mutters into his congrí. “This friendship thing is bullshit.”

Neither believe him for a second.

They’re barely into their meal when the nosiness starts. In fact, Lance is honestly surprised it has lasted this long. Luis probably said something to convince everyone to tone it down, because he is a saint and also Lance’s favourite.

“So,” says his Aunt Vena, “…Keith.”

Keith freezes, cheeks bulging. Lance tries very hard not to laugh at him.

“Hi,” he says, swallowing. He says nothing else and looks agonized about it. His memorized conversation starters have no doubt fled his brain.

“You know, I feel like I already know you,” jokes Aunt Vena, never bothered by awkwardness. Or boundaries. “I only see Leandro a few times a year were the only thing he talked about for ages.”

Lance goes pale. Oh, please God, no. Please let Aunt Vena be suddenly gifted with the ability to read Lance’s mind, or at least notice him waving his hands frantically behind Keith’s head, making cutting motions at his throat.

“Keith this, Keith that. Keith Keith Keith.”

Lance cradles his face in his hands. So much for miracles.

“He did?” Keith asks.

“Stop investigating immediately or you’re sleeping on the floor tonight,” Lance threatens under his breath. Keith’s hand finds it’s way to his thigh and rests there, as if laughing at him.

“Oh, yes,” laughs Aunt Vena. “Every other word was about how you sat in class or walked in the hall or flew your planes. He was always angry about it, but he was quite focused on you. Oh, and your hair.”

Aunt Vena turns away to chatter with someone else like she didn’t just ruin Lance’s life. Lance would hate her if he didn’t find her so goddamn loveable, but he does, so instead he looks up and suffers Keith’s wide, shit-eating grin, and ponders deep in his heart how he will re-humble his boyfriend so they’re back on even ground.

“…You were big on the hair, huh.”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll chop it off as you sleep.”

———

“Keith.”

“I’m just saying.”

“You dorkbrain.”

“I’m just saying!”

Keith’s hair is in a knot at the crown of his head, glasses pushed all the way to his face. He’s got Lance’s hand in his but he’s not paying attention to him in the slightest — he cycles between leaning back, then forwards, then craning his neck and shifting his eyes. Every few seconds he lets out a muted gasp.

A group of children run yelling in and out of the house, heedless of doors and stairs.

“You are such a mother hen,” Lance says with great amusement.

Keith is too distracted to even roll his eyes. “Some of them are very little,” he says worriedly. “Maybe they should play a game outside. There’s more space.” He looks around at the various adults sitting and chatting, aghast. “Should me maybe get a — pool noodle, or something? Just for the corners. So there are no head injuries. That’s the most common way they happen, you know. Tripping during play.”

Lance hums, leaning into his side. “Reading a lot of parenting books, are you.”

Keith is very deliberately silent. Lance flicks up his gaze to watch his face redden.

“…Akira.”

“It’s Shiro’s!” he says defensively. “It was — he had it on the shelf! I read it when I was younger! It was traumatizing! Do you know how easy it is to fuck up a kid? Very easy, Lance! Their heads are very squishy! They don’t know balance yet! They repeat everything you say!”

“Was this book,” Lance starts, choking back laughter with everything he has, “perhaps about raising toddlers?”

Keith’s jaw snaps shut.

“Children under two? Hm?”

Keith glances away. “It didn’t mention.”

Lance loses his battle, burying his cackling in Keith’s shoulder.

“How was I supposed to know that ‘A Guide To Raising Healthy Children For New Parents’ was about — babies? Shiro was the dumbass who had it!”

Lance laughs harder. “Did he — did he buy it when he —”

Keith puts his head in his hands. “He bought, like, forty books when he first started fostering me, they were all basically the same, he’s such a dumbass —”

“Stop, stop,” Lance begs, grasping his aching stomach. The image of Shiro, twenty years old, panicking after impulsively deciding to apply to foster the delinquent who stole his car, frantically googling advice for new parents only to unknowingly receive information about toddlers is the best mental image he’s had in a while. He’ll have to share with Pidge and the rest of the Holts the second they get home.

“You’re such a butthead,” Keith grumbles, but it’s half-hearted. His attention is still mostly on the way Mateo, Lance’s four year old second cousin, very nearly brains himself on the corner of the brick entryway trying to swerve away from his older sister. Keith’s sharp inhale would have been comical if Lance didn’t feel his own heart drop.

“Okay,” Lance concedes, “maybe it’s time for a new game.” He pats his boyfriend on the knee. “You’re up, champ.”

“Wait, me?” Keith asks, bewildered. “You’re their cousin.”

Lance shrugs. “You’re the worried one. Plus, I want to go get wine drunk with Rachel. Mamá said she just got here. She’s been avoiding my calls all week which means she has Information to share and doesn’t trust herself not to tell me immediately. I have to know what’s up.”

Keith still doesn’t look convinced. “But I’m a stranger to them, basically.”

“So start with Nadia and Sylvio, dummy. Once the rest of the kids see a cool newer and accidentally safer game to play, they’ll join fast. Plus, the stranger aspect is intriguing, probably. You’re like a new toy.”

To solidify his point, Lance calls his niblings over, gesturing to Keith. The twins light up, immediately abandoning whatever they’re doing — trying to shove a sleeping Luis’ finger up his own nose — to sprint over to them.

“Tío Keith has a game for you two,” Lance whispers conspirationally.

The twins burst into howling cheers.

“Game! Game! Game! Game!” they chant, each grabbing one of Keith’s hands and tugging him away.

Keith looks back at him, panicked. Lance blows him a kiss, then turns back into the house to go hunt for his sister.

She finds him first.

“LANCE,” she shouts, whipping around to face him. Lance immediately shifts backwards slightly, knees bent, legs widened, arms held out protectively in front of him. He smirks. She matches it.

She charges.

She aerials into a heel kick, as always, aiming for his skull. Lance back handsprings out of her reach, careful of the various relatives around him, who are well used to their brand of bullshit and don’t even pause their conversations as they lean away.

He comes back up just in time to throw up a block to her fists, aiming a kick to her stomach that she can’t fully dodge. She gets him right back, though, like she always does, aiming a sweeping kick for his ankles that he has to flip on his hands to avoid.

“It’s good to see you, fucker,” she pants, roundhouse kicking the dip of his waist.

“Likewise, asshole,” he grunts, grabbing her ankle and flipping her to the ground. She drags him down with her.

They’re both grinning.

“Tomorrow morning we box for real,” she proposes as they lay there, getting their breath back.

“Deal,” he agrees.

By the time they finally get back on their feet, they’re both parched, and since they also make frequent poor decisions, they head straight for the bad boxed wine. Lance pours them both heaping glasses and Rachel guides them to an open lawn chair, which they both sprawl on, a hundred percent in each other’s space.

“So,” Rachel says, chugging half her glass, “my grades are in. I’m graduating top of my class.”

Lance gasps. “Rachel!”

“And,” she continues, building up suspense with a grin, “I got word back from all my residency applications.”

Lance thinks he might explode. He remembers them when they were little, huddled on the floor of their bedroom at one in the morning, glow sticks guiding their planners, mapping out heir lives together. Where they would go to school, when they would bother with dating, how they would do it all together. Lance, best pilot to come out of the Garrison next to Shirogane. Rachel, the first surgeon to successfully transplant a brain.

“I got in,” she says, beam so wide it forces her eyes shut. “Lance, I got in!”

“Rach!” he screams, eyes blurry from tears and heart full to bursting. “Rach!”

He wraps his arms around her shoulders and squeezes, weeping with joy and elation and buzzing from his head to his toes. This is what Rachel has wanted since she was old enough to talk. This is his sister, his first and best friend, getting everything she has ever wanted, as she has always deserved.

“I’m so fucking proud of you!”

She squeezes him right back, her own tears wetting his t-shirt. Her relief is palpable, and Lance knows it, the indescribable feeling of finally crossing that goddamn mountain, finally getting what you’ve been working for for longer than you can remember.

“Everything is falling into place,” she says softly, pulling back and holding up her cup. Lance laughs and clinks them together.

They settle back into their shared chair, too happy for words, gathering themselves. Lance catches his mother’s eye and returns her soft smile, wine making him warm and happiness making him bright. He feels like he’s swimming in sun-warmed water.

He settles back with a sigh.

Rachel nudges him. “Hey, Loverboy. Look.”

Lance follows her pointing finger. Away from the tables and lawn chairs, in a wide, open space, there’s Keith — surrounded by every single child on the property, ordered in neat rows. Each of them has a hefty stick, held carefully in their hands, watching Keith with great intensity. Keith himself has his bayard out, stretched out in a battle position, back straight and shoulders loose. He has the same bright look on his face that he has during Lion training, or riskier missions. Excitement, steadiness, and a hint of cockiness that has Lance shivering. He demonstrates a move, and with a single minded focus, the children repeat it.

It has always been impossible not to want to be a part of everything Keith does, Lance has found.

“…You kind of scored,” Rachel observes.

Lance’s laughter is breathy, high-pitched. “Believe me, I know.”

There’s a rousing shout from the kids, then a cheer, then Keith shouts, “Ready?” and at their raucous response, chaos breaks out. Sticks are strikes and parried and children throw themselves dramatically on the floor in pantomimed deaths, scrambling to their feet seconds later to get back into the fray. Every few seconds Keith calls out rules and reminders, weaving through the children to point out places for improvement or congratulate someone for doing something right.

“I have never seen them all gathered this long without any crying or fighting,” Rachel says, something like awe in her voice. She pauses. “Well, real fighting.”

Lance smiles, something small and secret and over which he has no control. He catches his boyfriend’s eye and waves, which is returned at twice the enthusiasm.

“Keith’s good with kids,” he says quietly. To himself, he wonders if it’s possible to have a heart so full it bursts.

———

The blankets are scratchy but warm, and Keith smells as he always does, and Lance is half asleep. But the words come leisurely out anyway.

“You awake?“ he whispers, words tucked into the spot above Keith’s heart.

Keith hums. Lance feels the rumble of it in his cheek.

“Barely.”

His eyes are too heavy to keep open, so he lets them slip shut. He breathes deeply the smell of his boyfriend’s body wash, and traces meaningless patterns on his chest with his fingertips, breathing slowly, taking his time. He might fall asleep, but that’s okay. They have time.

“‘M glad you came, today.”

Keith’s breathing is slow and even, just like Lance’s, but he can feel the heavy weight of his gaze, those indigo eyes.

“I go where you go.”

Lance quirks his lips. The blankets rustle softly as Keith slowly slides up his hand, encircling his fingers around Lance’s wrist, palm resting on his forearm. After a minute Lance can feel his heartbeat, at the same time that he hears it, head pressed to Keith’s chest. “You’re good with the kids.”

Keith’s breath stutters. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I like them. And your family.”

“Told you.”

“Yeah, you did.” He’s silent for a minute, palm heavy on Lance’s skin. “I wanna — do this, Lance. Forever.”

Lance turns his head slightly, just enough to press his lips to Keith’s sternum. “I will love you until the end of time.”

He feels Keith’s smile, sweetening the air.

“I love you, too.”

[theemporium]

hiii cece, i was wondering if your still doing formula one, charles leclerc losing to reader and having a heated sex session (idk if that makes sense, but i hope you get it ig)

thank you xx

thank you for requesting! i do kinda wanna write for my boys (and maybe some others, who knows) again so here we are :)

.

He was pissed. 

You knew he was pissed the second you got out of your car, parked right behind the number one sign, and saw him just glaring at you from his spot behind number two. You knew he was pissed when you went to the cooldown room and he had walked right past you. You knew he was pissed in the post-race conference when he made a snarky comment about your win.

He had spent the majority of the race leading. It was meant to be an easy win to secure. And then a safety car deployed and suddenly you were on his ass, and one risky move caused him to pull back and you to move ahead and you took his win. 

Charles knew how racing worked. He knew this was just one of those things that happened. But after weeks of bad luck and bad strategies, this just so happened to be the thing that tipped him over the edge and there was only one way he knew how to settle his feelings when it came to you. 

“Fuck!” 

Charles groaned as he threw his head back, the thump against the wall was a dull pain that he didn’t care about at that moment. Instead, he was focused on you. One look and you knew exactly what he needed. It was easy enough to sneak into his driver room after the conference, but you had barely stepped through the door before he was on you. 

Now, here he was, race suit pooled at his knees and fireproof abandoned somewhere in the room. His chest was heaving with soft pants, his hands were wrapped around your ponytail and his cock was hitting the back of your throat as you took it all like the good girl you were.

“That’s it, cherie,” he groaned, tugging you closer by your hair until your nose was brushing against his pelvis. He looked down at you, the way your wide, glossy eyes were staring up at him and the way his cock bulged against your cheek. “This is where you belong, hm? Look so pretty down there.” 

You whined around his cock, the sound only muffled as you squirmed under his intense gaze. Your hands were pressed against his thighs, your nails digging into his skin but he revelled in the pain.

“So fucking desperate for my cock,” he mused as he tugged you away, watching as you gasped for air. His eyes darkened at the line of spit connecting to the tip of his dick, the way your eyes fell to watch it like you wanted to destroy the distance between you and him. “Maybe I gotta fuck you before the race, leave you all dumb and fucked out. Maybe then you won’t pull stupid moves.” 

“It was a good move,” you defended weakly, your voice a little raspy as you looked up at him. 

But he just chuckled darkly as he fisted your hair, tugging your head back so you were looking up at him. His other hand wrapped around his cock in a tight first, stroking as he watched you watch him longingly. 

“Still a brat, I see,” he grumbled, hissing through clenched teeth as his thumb swiped over his sensitive tip. “A shame. I was gonna take it out on you, watch you cry for my cock. But I don’t think you deserve it.” 

Your eyes widened a little. “Charles—”

“Shh, baby,” he groaned as he fought to keep his eyes open, to keep them on your face as he felt his orgasm approaching. He took a step closer, his cock just inches away from your face. “This is all you’re getting until you stop being a brat. Only good girls get to come.”

.