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scuderiahoney · 4 months

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Color Theory

Oscar Piastri x artist!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Oscar’s an old friend of yours. This time when he comes home to visit, things get messy. Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: alcohol, mild drug use, sexual content 18+ MDNI, overuse of color descriptions

It’s summer in Australia, your favorite time of year despite the overbearing sun and the overwhelming heat. Sweat spikes on your brow, but the sunlight that pours through the windows makes you happy. The door to the back garden is open, the smell of wildflowers blowing in with the breeze. You can hear your roommates chattering in the other room. You hold a paint palette in one hand, a brush in the other. There’s something just slightly off about this piece, some part of the light you’re not capturing quite right. You step back from the painting, trying to get a better view of the whole picture.

Someone calls your name from inside. You ignore them. By the third time you hear your name, you give in, setting the palette and brush down and heading inside. You’re still wearing your apron, covered in paint marks.

Lizzy, one of your roommates, smiles at you. “How’s it going?”

You sigh heavily. “Can’t get the light right.”

She nods in understanding. “We’re ordering pizza. Oscar’s on his way. Thought I’d give you a heads up in case you decide to try painting in your underwear again.”

You laugh. “It was one time,” you say defensively. “It was hot out and I was trying to become-“

“-one with the art, I know, I know,” she teases. “Just giving you a warning!”

You lean on the counter and let out a long breath. “It’s gonna be weird, isn’t it? Him being here?”

Oscar’s an old friend of yours, and your roommates, too. Old, like preteens old. He left for the UK so long ago that you’d probably barely remember what he looked like if it weren’t for video calls and social media and now, his face being plastered everywhere. You’ve kept up, have stayed friends through it all. But it’s the first time you’ll be seeing him in person in over a year, the first time he’s ever going to visit your shared house, the first time since… since he became Oscar Piastri and not just Oscar.

Lizzy shrugs. “Only weird if we make it weird, right?”

She’s right, to a certain extent. Your other roommate, Leo, shows up with Oscar in tow, and you do your best to not be weird about it, and you think it works. He greets you and Lizzy with long hugs. He smells like sea salt and something warm. His body’s much more firm and filled out than he was the last time you saw him, which makes sense, you suppose. He still smiles like golden yellow sunshine, though, crinkled eyes and round cheeks and that near permanent blush on his face.

The pizza arrives shortly after he does, and you all settle into the living room to catch up. Oscar tells stories about racing, about his first year in F1, about his teammate and his competitors. You’ve been keeping up with the races more than you ever did before- Leo always wanted to watch but you hadn’t cared that much before it was Oscar, before the guy in the orange car was the same kid who used to finger paint with you in the backyard, your mother worried about the mess. Now you sit glued to the TV most Sundays.

In turn, you, Lizzy, and Leo update Oscar on what he’s missed. All about your family lives, your jobs, your other friends he’s lost touch with. He listens intently to each story, the way he always has.

“What are you doing for work?” He asks, nudging your knee.

You sigh dejectedly. “Nothing fun.”

He pouts. Leo elbows you and speaks up, though.

“She’s still painting, though,” he says brightly. “You should see the sunroom.”

Oscar’s face lights up. “Is that your studio? You always said you wanted a sunroom.”

He’s always been one of your biggest supporters when it comes to your art. He’s the one who’d join you in the art room at lunchtime in school, eating his lunch at one of the counters while you worked on your latest piece, unable to put the paintbrush down. He’d attended all your art shows, had bought you paints and brushes and sketchbooks for birthdays and Christmases, and had even posed for a portrait you’d been required to paint for class. He’d had a hard time sitting still for that long without falling asleep.

You nod with a smile growing on your face. “Living the dream with that one.”

The night slips away from all of you, caught up in conversations about everything under the sun. You find yourself feeling sad when Oscar goes to leave. He does it with hugs and a promise to be back in a few days. When he leaves through the front door, you feel that emptiness again, that hole that’s never healed quite right after he left.

Lizzy sees it on your face and squeezes your shoulder. “He’ll be back.”

Two days later, you’re deep in painting mode, eyes beginning to ache as you stare at the canvas in front of you, when there’s a noise from the sunroom doorway. You turn and find Oscar standing there, eyes wide, brows raised. He chews on his lip sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he says, quietly. You hold back a laugh. “Leo said to come over and just let myself in, and I heard a noise, and- sorry-“

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, tilting your head and smiling. “Leo should’ve told you, he ran to the store for drinks.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, and his shoulders drop. “Right.”

“You’re welcome to hang out, though,” you say, nodding at the chair off to the side in the sunroom. “Don’t want you getting bored all by yourself.”

He hesitated. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

He never would have questioned it before. He would’ve already been sitting, would’ve already known what you were painting, would’ve helped you get your palette set up. It’s different now. He’s been gone a while.

You jut your chin towards the chair again and wave a paintbrush in that direction. “Please. You’ve never been a bother.”

He was always the only one of your friends that you allowed to watch you paint. He knew when to stay quiet, and when you needed the background noise of his voice, without ever having to ask. He shuffles over to the chair and sits down. Oscar’s gaze dances through the room with wide eyes, and when you turn back to the canvas, you can feel him watching intently.

“What do you think?” You ask, just to break the silence. You gesture at the paintings lined up around the room. “Have my skills improved?”

He lets out a slow breath. “They’re amazing,” he says, and your heart twists in your chest. “I’m so glad you kept up on it. That you didn’t lose your… you know. Passion. Sounds cheesy, but I mean it.”

You nod. Most of your friends and family had spent your teenage years trying to convince you to learn any skill other than art. You’d continued pouring yourself into the paintings. Oscar had been one of your only cheerleaders through it all.

“It’s not easy,” you admit. “Bills and shit, you know? Real adult stuff. But I’ve been trying to get into some galleries recently. I don’t know if it’ll ever be something I can make a living off of, but I’ve gotta try.”

Oscar nods in understanding. “How about when I win my first championship, I’ll make good on my promise?”

You laugh. There’d been a night just before he’d left for the UK where the two of you had stayed up late, out far past curfew at the local park. You’d laid under a tree next to him, giddy on the high of breaking the rules and the late hour. He’d told you all about his big dreams. About F1 and championships and how he was going to make it big. And when you’d asked if he’d remember you, he’d smiled and turned his head towards you, eyes wide in the pale moonlight, nose nearly touching yours.

“I’ll use my money and open a gallery,” he’d promised. “And I’ll fill it with all of your paintings.”

You’d rolled your eyes. “Even the bad ones?”

He’d nodded, so seriously. “Especially the bad ones.”

Now he sits next to you in your makeshift studio, so close to reaching his dreams. You can only hope you’ll get there, too, someday.

There’s a party at your house that night. There’ll be more people there than usual, wanting to talk with Oscar and taking up his time. But for now there’s just you and him in the studio you’ve always wanted, the one you talked about under the tree in the park. You’ll take what you can get.

Oscar finds you later at the party, in the back corner of the backyard. The sun is nearly gone, the last bits of daylight slipping away. When he walks up, you’re leaning back in an outdoor armchair, and you smile hazily up at him and hold out the joint you’d been smoking.

He shakes his head. You pout.

“I get drug tested,” he says, and you suppose that’s understandable. “And I think my trainer would kill me over the lung damage.”

“It’s just once,” you friend says next to you, “can’t do that much damage.”

“Oscar’s a high performance athlete,” you tease.

Someone finishes the infamous Daniel Ricciardo quote for you, complete with the sound effects. You’re not really listening, more focused on how Oscar rolls his eyes as he sits down on the arm of the chair. You tilt your head to look up at him.

The late sun is hitting the bridge of his nose, a bright orange band against his freckled skin. He blinks at you with thick lashes, and you wonder how you’d capture the look on his face with paint- the softness of his cheeks, the care that sits heavy on his browbone, the restlessness in the curve of his mouth. You don’t like to do portraits- Oscar’s one of few people you’ve painted, but it was years ago. He was a skinny kid with a bad haircut. Now his jawline is chiseled and sharp, and his hair falls over his forehead in a soft swoop. He's pretty.

He cocks his head at you. You’ve been staring too long. You force a giggle and nudge his knee. He laughs right back.

You’re not sure how he ends up squished into the chair with you, his arm over your shoulder, his bare thigh pressed to yours. You think maybe it was your doing- you grabbed his arm, pulled him until he sunk in next to you. The sun is gone, now, the evening chill taking over, and it’s nice to have him next to you, keeping you warm. His cheek is pressed to the top of your head.

“You can go, you know,” you say quietly. Most of your friends have abandoned the corner you’re in, moving to the lit back deck, or the firepit area. You and Oscar have stayed put, though.

“D’you want me to go?” He asks.

You shake your head. He laughs. “I just don’t wanna take up all your time,” you say with a shrug.

His fingers play with the ends of your hair. “I’m right where I want to be.”

You curl in closer to him. You’re right where you want to be, too.

Eventually, the two of you rejoin the group. He stays glued to your side most of the night, though. His shoulder presses against yours, and in turn, you lean against him. He grows quieter as the night goes on. That’s when you remember that his time spent with you while you were painting wasn’t just for your benefit. He’d been a quiet kid- popular, but easily exhausted by socializing. He’d liked the solitude and comfort of the art room nearly as much as you had.

In the backyard full of your old friends, he seems content to stay stuck on you. When he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, you wiggle one of yours in alongside his, hoping you’re not crossing a line. Or maybe, really, you’re hoping it’s a line he wants you to cross. When he knits your fingers together, you sigh happily.

People leave one by one, with hugs for Oscar and promises to watch the next season. He says goodbye to them and then returns quickly to your side. Soon enough, Lizzy shuffles off to bed, and then Leo stretches and does the same, and it’s just you and Oscar. You hide a yawn. You don’t want to go to bed, not yet.

He squeezes your shoulder, his arm around your back, now. He has his cheek pressed against your temple. For a moment, you wonder if you could stay stuck to him long enough to keep him here. If eventually, the two of you would fuse together. That’s probably just your wavering high speaking. He mumbles something into the side of your head. You break from your staring at the coals and make a noise of confusion.

“Missed you,” he says. “Sorry I haven’t…”

This feels like too heavy a conversation to have now, when things have felt so good and warm all night. You know it’s coming at some point, but you’ll avoid it all costs. You turn further into him and wrap an arm around his middle, and let your eyes fall closed.

“I missed you too,” you say, rubbing your thumb against his rib cage through his sweatshirt.

The two of you sit quietly for a few moments. Then, you say, “you know, I still have that portrait I did of you. How many races d’you think you need to win before I can make some money off that?”

He laughs into your hair. His hand has fallen to your side now, and he squeezes- you nearly gasp at the feeling. “I was a scrawny baby in that painting. Nobody wants to buy that.”

You giggle against him. “You were a cute scrawny baby, though.”

It’s not something you would have said all those years ago. You’d have never been caught dead admitting that you thought he was cute. But now… in the safety of the backyard, in the darkness, pressed against his side…

“You’re cuter now, though,” you say.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You nod confidently. He slips his other hand from his pocket. It comes up to hold your jaw, gently. You hold your breath. He tilts your face up towards his.

“You’re prettier than ever,” he says, softly. “And I thought you reached the limit a long time ago.”

His lips are on yours within seconds, then. It’s not the first time he’s kissed you. By now, you know it probably won’t be the last. You let it happen, opening up for him. You slip your tongue past the warmth of his lips. His hand cups the side of your face as that warm feeling melts across your skin, the one that only he brings. You’ve been searching for a replacement since the last time this happened. Nothing comes close.

He uses the arm around you to pull you into his lap. You reach up and thread your fingers into his shirt, something to anchor you in the swirling feeling of him on and around and against you again. His hands fall to your hips, trying to do the same. He kisses like Australian summers, hot and long and sunny and bright orange. His touch leaves sparks behind everywhere he goes.

When you finally break away for air, his hair is a mess, and your lips feel puffy. He grins sheepishly at you. You chew on your lower lip as he brushes a finger over the arch of your cheek.

“Sorry,” he says. Always apologizing. You know he’s not sorry for kissing you. He’s sorry for how this will eventually end.

“Don’t be,” you say, quietly. “Please. Let’s just…”

He nods, then swallows before he says, “okay.”

Then he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your temple. You giggle at the feeling and let your fingertips dance against his face and neck. He muffles another laugh into your skin.

“Missed you,” you say again.

“I missed you too,” he says.

He walks you inside. You think about inviting him to stay the night, but you think that might be a bad idea. Instead, you give him a hug and watch him walk out the front door, into the only black and blue night.

…..

You meet up with him and a few other friends at a bar a couple nights later. You walk over from your house with Lizzy, who either doesn’t notice your nervous energy, or is nice enough to just not mention it. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s the people you’ve known for years, and it’s just Oscar. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Except for the still fading hickey he left on your neck, covered by strategically placed hair, and the way you feel his lips on your every time you close your eyes. Yeah. There’s that, sure.

The bar is crowded even before all of your friends arrive. Oscar comes in with Leo, having been out all day while you and Lizzy had to work. There are at least five people there who are acting like they haven’t seen Oscar in years, even though they were all at the party a few nights ago. You try your best to hide your jealousy. He has other friends. He probably likes them way more than he likes you, anyways.

He finds you later, standing at the bar, waiting to order a drink. He’s just- there, all of the sudden, warm shoulder pressed to yours, elbows on the countertop. He smiles softly at you when you turn to him, and he leans into you.

“Hi,” he says. “I was looking for you.”

You want to laugh, because surely he wasn’t, but- there’s something so serious in his eyes. You lean into him in response, just to watch him raise his brows and smile wider. There’s a little mole on the swell of his cheek. You want to reach out and touch it. You refrain.

“I’m here,” you finally say, nodding towards your crowd of friends in the corner. “You’ve been a busy man tonight.”

He sighs, heavily, like it’s been difficult for him. It probably has been. He’s a quiet person in general. Not one to really like being the center of attention. You wonder if he’s exhausted as easily by it now as he was before, or if his years of podium celebrations have dulled the sensation a bit. Wonder how much of your Oscar is still left, under the facade.

He chews on his lower lip lightly, and you smile softly. That’s an old habit. That’s one you recognize. You also think of the night by the firepit, how you’d pulled that same lip between your own teeth, and the noise he’d made in response. Your face grows warm.

The bartender finally turns to you. Oscar orders for both of you, because of course he knows what you’re drinking. Then you follow him back to the crowd of your friends. When he grabs your hand to pull you along, you don’t complain. You just squeeze his fingers in response.

You stumble out of the bar with him, hand in hand, hours later. He’s insistent on walking you and Lizzy home, claiming that Leo won’t be enough to keep an eye on the both of you. You’re just happy to have his fingers locked with yours, to have his shoulder brushing against you as you both sway down the sidewalk. It’s comfortably warm outside, and you hum to yourself as you walk, listening to Lizzy and Leo arguing about nothing important.

Your journey home is stopped by Oscar, who stops in his tracks suddenly. You turn back to look at him. He’s staring across the street, where there’s a neon sign lit up in the window, the word Pizza flashing like a beacon. You laugh as he tugs on your hand.

“No, come on, we’re going home,” Lizzy calls out.

“I want pizza,” Oscar says in response, deadpan.

You turn to your roommates and shrug. “He wants pizza.”

Lizzy sighs. “I want to go home.”

“You guys go,” Oscar says with a dismissive wave. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Less than ten minutes later, your legs are stuck to the vinyl of the pizza parlor booth, knee bumping Oscar’s underneath the table. There’s a pepperoni pizza between the two of you, far too much for you to actually finish.

“Yknow,” he says, waving a piece of pizza around in the air. “Logan dips his pizza in ranch.”

You laugh at the disgusted look on Oscar’s face, at the way he says ranch. You take a sip of the soda he insisted on buying for you, along with the food.

“Bet it’s good,” you admit, shrugging.

Oscar wrinkles his nose. “I’m not a picky eater, but… isn’t pizza good enough on its own?”

You shrug, pretending to think deeply about it. Except that Oscar knows you well enough to know you’re pretending, so he starts laughing. And then you follow suit, doubled over in the booth, grease from the pizza on your fingertips.

As his laughter fades, he presses his knee against yours. It feels deliberate.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he says.

Something twists in your chest. “Missed you, too, Osc.”

Your friendship goes through cycles. When he’s here, it’s almost like nothing has changed. But when he’s gone… the two of you aren’t good at long distance friendship. Or maybe, really, you’re better at it than most. You can go months without talking and pick up like nothing has changed. The tough part comes when he’s here, within reach, and then he leaves. That’s the moment you dread, the part you don’t handle well. It would probably be easier if you stopped kissing him every time he came home. But you look across the table, and his lips are soft and cherry pink and slightly shiny from the pizza, and you know that would be impossible.

“I’ve missed you too,” you say, because you know he needs to hear it even if he already knows it. “I was worried that maybe now that you’re in F1, you’d gotten too important for… us.”

You really mean me, but it feels a bit too much to say out loud. You think he knows, anyways. He reaches a hand across the table, lays it over top of yours. There’s a sad smile on his face.

“I could never,” he says, eyes drilling right into yours. “Promise.”

He walks you home, hand in hand. The front porch light is on, probably Lizzie’s doing. He insists on coming all the way up to the front door, which is sweet and does absolutely awful things to your brain. Because he’s right there, his hand in yours, and you’re fumbling for your house key in your purse, but really you’re thinking about kissing him. When his fingers squeeze yours, you give up on the key and turn to him.

He knows it’s coming, you think. When you cup his face in your hand, he’s already leaning in.

The kiss is softer, messier, than the other night. You’re both still a little tipsy. But it’s less frantic, more comfortable. His other hand falls to your hip, and you lean back against the front door to your house and melt into him. He presses against you, warm, firm muscle against every curve of your body. You don’t want this to end. You want to wrap your arms around his neck and beg him to stay right here, to never leave, to come back to you.

He pulls away first. You try to kiss him again, hands tugging at his hips as he pants through reddened lips.

“You’re drunk,” he mumbles.

You shake your head no. “Not that drunk.”

He leans in close and kisses your cheek. “This is a bad idea.”

That makes your gut twist, makes your chest hurt. You roll your eyes and turn away so he won’t see the way your tears well up. He’s right, you know, but it hurts to hear it.

“I care about you. A lot,” he says, quietly. “And I… if things were different…”

“I know,” you say, because you do know. “Yeah. Bad idea. You should go.”

You leave him standing on the porch and disappear inside the house. When you lay down in bed, you lay awake for hours, swirls of color dancing behind your eyelids.

…..

The next night, you find yourself in your studio, alone. There’s paint on the canvas in front of you- not the good stuff you’d normally use, but the cheap kind you keep on hand for moments like these. Children’s finger paint, runny and thin and non-toxic. It’s running down the palette and dripping down your wrist. You’re in a pair of shorts and a sports bra, and frankly, you’d probably be wearing less if you didn’t know your roommates were due home eventually.

Oscar’s leaving tomorrow morning. At this point, the last you’ll see of him for a while will be when you left him on the porch. You swipe a bit of blue on the canvas. You’re not really painting anything, just trying to put color to the feelings. He’s leaving and he’ll be gone for a while again, and things are weird again, because he kissed you and then you kissed him and now he has to leave. You add a swipe of orange. Papaya, you think, gritting your teeth.

You wonder if things really would’ve been different. If he’d stayed, would you be together? Would he love you the way you want him to? Maybe. Or maybe, no matter the universe, this is how it ends. Maybe there’s always a bigger dream waiting. Maybe you’re not enough for him.

There’s a knock on the door. There’s red paint on your fingertips.

“Busy,” you call out.

Someone sighs. You freeze, hand halfway to the canvas. It doesn’t sound like Lizzy or Leo.

“It’s me,” Oscar says. “Can I come in?”

You huff. “Sure.”

He opens the door and blinks owlishly at the sight of you. You know you probably look crazy. He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. The silence is deafening. Paint runs off the palette and onto your leg.

“Rough day?” He asks, because he knows.

You laugh bitterly. “You could say that, yeah.”

“I’m-“

“Don’t apologize,” you say with a sigh. “I’m not sorry.”

“No?”

“No,” you say. “I’m just… frustrated.”

Frustrated that he gets to live out his dream while you wither away in the hot Australian sun, waiting for your chance. Frustrated that every time he comes back it sends you into a tailspin. Frustrated that he’s leaving again. Frustrated with yourself for kissing him, frustrated that you want to do it again.

He crosses the room and stands next to you. You watch his shaky fingers drag through the mess on the palette. Then he reaches out and drags them through the mess on the canvas. He’s the only one you’d let do that, the only one who’d be brave enough to even try.

You follow suit, dip a finger in the yellow and smear it in a line over the canvas. Oscar’s finger falls to your wrist, scoops the bright blue from your skin and draws a squiggle with it. Cadmium Yellow and Phthalo Blue mix on the canvas and turn into envy green. Oscar dips his hand into the Cobalt Violet and draws a line of it up your arm like a bruise. You laugh and pick up the Ultramarine Blue to match the empty feeling in your chest. It leaves behind rivers on his cheeks when you hold his face in your hand and kiss him. Gently, first, and then with all the color you can muster up. You drop the palette on the floor. It splatters everywhere.

You wonder how you’d go about painting this. Red for the brush of his tongue, the bite of his teeth against your neck. Blue for the way his fingers dig into your hips. Bright pink for the way he moans into your mouth, breathy and broken and oh-so-lovely. The way you drop to your knees is lavender purple. The feeling of him heavy on your tongue, the way he sighs over it, is sunflower yellow.

He gets paint in your hair when he pulls you off of him, and then he sinks to his knees with you. You think about suggesting the couch, but then he’s pulling you all the way down onto the floor and you can’t bring yourself to protest. He cleans the paint from his hands first, always a gentleman. Then his fingers slip into you in a rush of an orangey-yellow feeling, one that turns more and more pink with each press of his hand, each swipe of his thumb against your clit. And when he finally presses his cock into you, it’s the brightest burst of sky blue behind your eyelids.

The colors melt together in your mind. You’d never be able to put this onto a canvas- not the way he breathes so heavy in your ear, the way his fingers drag against your skin, the way you shake as you clench around him and he spills himself inside of you. There’s no way you’d get the color right.

You drag him upstairs afterwards, both of you giggling, and you gasp when you hear the front door open just as you pull him into your bedroom. You head for the attached bathroom first, drag him under the hot spray of water and watch the rainbow mix into brown and wash away down the drain. There’s paint crusted in his hair and yours- you do your best to scrub it out as he leans heavily against you.

You don’t even bother asking if he wants to stay. You just drag him to the bed and toss him a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants you think are Leo’s. He doesn’t question it. You can hear your roommates downstairs talking. You wonder if they know.

Oscar flops onto the bed and reaches for you, tugging at the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. You go easily, willingly, eagerly. He wraps you up in his arms and presses his face into your neck.

“I…” he starts, then cuts himself off.

“I know,” you murmur, because you do. “Me too.”

I love you. I wish it was different. I would stay if I could. I’ll miss you.

You wake up in the morning to his lips against your cheek. You drag yourself out of bed to walk him to the door. Your chest aches, and the feeling is a color that you can’t quite put your finger on. Someone’s there to pick him up and take him to the airport, take him far away for a long time.

He kisses you on the forehead and squeezes your shoulder. “I’ll see you soon,” he promises.

You nod and lean up to kiss his cheek. “Yeah. See you soon.”

The ache he leaves behind is a muddy mix of all your favorite colors.

…..

Six months later, you stand in an art gallery full of people. Your paintings hang on the wall nearby. You sip your drink and try to pretend like you’re not waiting and watching their every little reaction. Like you’re not searching for validation in the faces of strangers.

It’s strange to have these paintings hung up for everyone to see. When others look at them, they see pretty landscapes or flowers or a simple still life. They don’t know the meaning of it all.

You step away to grab another drink, something to quell the anxiety rising in your chest. When you come back, the one person who might just see through the facade is standing there, staring, wide eyed.

You swallow tightly and walk up next to him, and let your shoulder bump into his. “You made it.”

Oscar’s eyes stay trained on the paintings, but he leans into you. “Of course I made it.”

You want to tell him that there’s no of course here, that you’d invited him without really expecting him to show up. You keep your mouth shut though. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he is here.

“What do you think?” You ask, quietly.

The truth is, of all the people in the gallery, his opinion is the one that matters most. You wonder what he sees when he looks at the canvases. Does he see the rays of sunlight on a table for what they truly are- a poor recreation of the sun on his skin? Does he realize that the deep purple of the plums in the still life matches the bruise on your knee that lasted for weeks after that night in the studio, the one you’d press your thumb into when your heart ached? There’s the painting of the orange lilies, color matched to the papaya of his car and race suit. There’s a painting of an empty table setting, a painting of a wide open blue sky over the backyard, and most telling of all, there’s the fabric study of his t-shirt, left behind, draped over the chair in the studio.

The collection is the closest thing to a portrait that you’ve done in years, even though there are no people in it. It’s the closest thing to a self portrait that you’ve ever done. Does he know?

His hand brushes against your elbow. He points at the empty plate on the empty table. “That’s how leaving felt for me, too, you know.”

You could cry, just knowing he understands. Instead, you nod and lean into him. You have people to talk to, art critics to impress and studio owners to try to convince, but the truth is that Oscar will always be the only one who truly understands. You stay with him for just a moment longer.

He stays the whole time, even as people begin to leave and the catering staff starts clearing the tables of food and drinks. You find him after you’ve had the last of your conversations with the important people. He’s standing near the door, looking only slightly out of place, scrolling on his phone.

“You didn’t have to stay the whole time,” you say.

He shrugs and smiles. “I know. I wanted to. There’s a pub down the street, it’s one of my favorites. D’you have time for a drink?”

You nod and pout. “Maybe some food too? M’starving.”

He nods eagerly in agreement. He leads you out of the gallery, holds the door for you and everything. The cool London night air hits you like a blast as you step outside.

Right. You’re not in Australia.

It’s a strange feeling, being here with Oscar- his chosen home for all these years, and yet it’s the first time you’re seeing it with him. He reaches for your hand on the sidewalk and tucks it into his jacket pocket, right alongside his. The pub isn’t far- when you get there, it’s crowded and warm, and he helps you slip your jacket off your shoulders. You smile at him in thanks. When he smiles back, your heart skips a beat.

Ten minutes later, you’re at the bar, beers in front of each of you and a pile of chips between the two of you. Your knee is pressed against his under the countertop. He’s smiling at you, his face lit up golden yellow in the inky gray light of the bar.

“So. What did you really think?” You ask, leaning towards him.

He shakes his head, almost disbelievingly. “The same thing I always think. Your paintings are amazing. It was like I could feel it, you know? Like I’m staring at, I dunno, fucking plums, but feeling something completely different.”

You nod, chest feeling tight. You’re unsure of what to even say. How to explain to him that maybe he’s the only one who feels that, because all the paintings are about him. You think of the portrait you did all those years ago, sitting in your storage, and how it doesn’t even begin to do him justice.

“How much?” He asks, and you blink widely. “I wanna buy them. I want- yeah.” He has this dreamy, hazy look on his face. “Can I buy them? Or even just one-“

“Osc,” you murmur. You reach out and press your hand over his on the countertop. “You don’t have to do that.”

He tilts his head at you, and when he speaks, his voice is almost raw. “I meant what I said, you know. The plate. That’s how I’ve felt. All of the art, it’s… you know.”

“I know,” you say. “But they’re not for sale.”

He deflates. You squeeze his hand and try not to grin too widely. “Right,” he says. “No, of course, sorry. Just thought it might be cool to have some of them in my apartment. We could get prints made, right?”

“Sure. “ you pause and take a deep breath. “The gallery wants to extend them,” you say, and his face lights up again. “The curator spoke to me after the show. She wants to keep them up for a few months.”

“That’s amazing,” he gushes, leaning over and pulling you into a hug so tight it almost topples you off the barstool. “Oh, wow, baby, that’s- and I could go see them, then, even when you’re gone?”

You laugh against his chest. “Yeah. Sure. Or, um…”

He freezes, the hand that had been sweeping up your back stuck in place. He’s holding his breath. You might be too.

“They offered me an artist’s residency,” you blurt out. “They want me to come stay for six months, maybe longer if it goes well. Work out of their studio, show art, teach some classes.”

Oscar’s voice is breathy and high pitched when he says, “here?”

You nod against his chest. “I mean. I’d have to find an apartment. And move all my stuff. And probably break Leo and Lizzy’s hearts.”

“But you’d be here,” he says. “Here, like… it took me twenty minutes to get here tonight. And you’d- this is what you’ve dreamed of, isn’t it?”

You nod, eyes burning with tears. “Would that be okay?”

Oscar laughs- you feel it more than hear it, in the shake of his shoulders and the rumble in his chest. “Yeah. I could live with that, I think.”

He kisses you in the bar, nearly pulls you off the stool with the force of it. You kiss him right back, bracing your hand on the countertop, not a care in the world who sees it. Fireworks light up behind your eyes like splashes of paint.

…..

There’s not a sunroom you can turn into a studio in your new apartment in London. It’s a smaller space, and you end up doing most of your painting at the main studio anyways. But Oscar is there, perched on the edge of a table watching you paint whenever he can. And in the entryway of your new place, you hang up the old portrait of him, right next to a photo of the two of you taken just after you moved to London.

In the photo, his arm is around your shoulders, his lips against your temple. He’d asked you to be his girlfriend officially seconds after it was taken, but there’s a light in both of your eyes that tells you it was inevitable, really. It’s something in the way he’s smiling, in the way his cheeks burn red and his lips are pink and the way you smile at him, too. Like you’ve both known it all along. That the two of you have always been complementary colors, just waiting for the right moment.

a/n: been working on this one for a while finally got it! hope you enjoyed thanks for reading!

Taglist: @4-mula1 @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @ggaslyp1

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some-bunniii · 5 months

Text

Lucifer with an artist reader

・❥ You’re hosting an art class, and the nude model is someone you never expected

xx: it’s a long one y’all 😭 we’re still in the pre-dating era! Slowburn, anybody? Forget the crumbs, have the whole loaf of bread, my swans ☺️

warning: brief mentions of nudity & mild swearing

After Lucifer’s initial tour of the hotel, he started coming around much more often.

He was beginning to reconcile with his daughter, and that meant making up for all the years he had missed out due to his self-isolation.

When Lucifer came to the hotel for Charlie, he always made time for you.

At first, when you had still been busy working away at the paintings for the hotel, he had used the excuse that he was just coming over simply to “admire the art.”

Nevermind that he crossed the entire hotel just to look at some paintings, but you never pried him about it. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t waiting in anticipation for his visits.

Sometimes, he would lean against the door frame in silence, watching as your brush glided across the surface of the canvas. He dared not to disturb you while you worked. Too afraid he’d cause you to slip up and place your brush in the wrong spot, ruining your piece.

He never would admit it, but the soft, feather-like strokes you made always seemed to lull him into a state of tranquil bliss.

If he had the opportunity to sit there for hours and watch you paint, he’d probably drift off into a peaceful sleep.

It was ASMR for the King of Hell.

You weren’t always sure whether he was admiring the painting, or you. You were too concentrated on making a leaf of a tree, or the surface of the water just right to trace his gaze.

You’d think with Lucifer being the embodiment of pride and his rank as ruler of the realm, he’d have demanded your attention instantly.

Instead, it was you who usually spoke first. “Are you going to sit down?” You’d tease with a warm smile, greeting him with a bat of your eyelashes as you soaked your brush with fresh paint.

“Of course, I just wanted to see your progress, it’s looks beautiful as always.”

You had hummed a thanks as he strode over to the flat cushion in the middle of the room, and collapsed in it. He had now claimed it as his personal spot ever since he had first used it when you let him use his wings for reference.

Every time he made himself comfortable, he would exhale a large sigh of relief, like he just walked out of a noisy and over-stimulating circus show.

His tolerance for people in general was still pretty dicey, but here, in the quiet corner of the hotel, he could reset his mind.

And with you there? He didn’t feel so lonely. Even in your silence, your presence and the multitude of large paintings leaning against the walls was all he needed to keep his mind from drifting off into darker thoughts.

“Boy, do you work fast. I can’t imagine what Hell would like if you were the one running things.”

“Probably terrible,” You had laughed, “I may be able to create art under time constraints, but the pressure of an entire realm on my shoulders? We’ll let the super-powerful-fallen-angel deal with that.”

“There goes my vacation,” He had sighed dramatically.

Sometimes, he’d catch you humming to an ancient tune, and every time he’d ask you about it.

“What song is this?” He’d ask, genuine interest lacing his voice.

“Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means”

“ ‘Innsbruck, I must leave thee’ ,” you’d laugh, “It’s a German song and is, you guessed it, from the Renaissance.”

“Oh, right. Germany. Yeah, they were our biggest influx of souls back in the early 1900s,” He replied, “Must’ve been fun people.”

You shook your head at that. Right, ‘Fun’, that was a rather.. surface-level take on what that country had gotten into during that period of time.

“You should tell me more about the Renaissance.” He’d ask with puppy-dog eyes, which always made you set down your brush and turn to him. A content smile spreading across your face.

Your knowledge of such a time always intrigued him, the Renaissance as a whole did. For so long, he had desperately clung onto the hope that some of humanity would go on to create great and beautiful things due to his actions. That his Fall wasn't all for nothing.

Slowly, that hope fizzled out, and Lucifer’s growing delusion that Earth mirrored the sinful realm of Hell in more ways than one plagued his mind.

And then you appeared, passionate about Man’s most beautiful creations. Art, music, long-ago writings of sappy declarations of love in the form of poetry, and times when humanity’s intellectual and innovative nature flourished.

“It was absolutely magnificent,” You’d start, drawing from the depths of your mind all the imagery you could remember from when you were alive, “Filled with all kinds of artistic expression, painters that filled the ceilings of churches with heavenly imagery-“

Lucifer had snorted at that. This era in time had such a romanticized idea of what Heaven and their Creators were like. He pitied their ignorance.

“-and beautiful music. They were known for bringing to life a worldview known as Humanism. It was meant to bring back ancient philosophy — like from the Greeks — to uplift people to participate in the betterment of humanity, and to perpetuate much more virtuous actions. There must be a whole city full of them up there, I can't imagine anyone from that period ending up down here with how protective they were of their moral code.”

He’d always listen attentively in silence as you educated him. Sometimes, he’d even pull out the classic yellow rubber duck toy he held so close to his heart, and begin to fiddle with it as you spoke.

When he worked on them in your room, he’d curate them especially for you.

“Look! This one can refill your palette with the bestest freshest paint!” He’d exclaim as he wiggled it in the air, “And it still quacks!”

Every time, you’d pull up a cushion across the table from him, and rest your chin on your hand as you watched in amusement as he demonstrated his work.

In this instance, he squeezed the sides of the duck and it let out a pathetic Sqeaaooo and a glob of paint slid out of its mouth and plopped right onto the table. It splattered, leaving a few droplets on his pretty white overcoat.

Lucifer was a messy fella, and times like this made you growl quietly and reach for a wet cloth from your cleaning bucket. Hastily trying to rid his clothing of the bright red paint. Your movements across his sleeve made his body tense, and his breath quicken.

For someone who easily flustered you with abrupt acts of affection like the first time you met, Lucifer had the uncanny ability to turn his face as red as his cheek spots when you displayed such care towards him.

“It's still a work in progress.” He’d bashfully assure you every time something like that wouldn’t go as planned.

You’d wish Lucifer displayed such creativity outside of the yellow bath toy, but you promised yourself to help him down that path.

You could only imagine how many ideas this man had stored in that head of his, and you had a feeling you’d get him to wake up eventually. The thought of being there for him — with him, made your cheeks hot.

When it was finally time for him to leave the hotel — sometimes hours later, you’d walk him to the door of your little atelier and he’d turn to you, with that charming smirk and half-lidded look.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Charlie?” You had ask, as he adjusted his hat and coat to depart.

“I already did before I got here,” he replied nonchalantly, as if you two existed in completely different buildings. Nevermind that she was a flight of stairs and a few halls away.

There were no more bold kisses to the limbs from him after your first meeting, to your displeasure. Even thinking about it gave you feelings that tugged painfully at your heartstrings and made you beg internally for more.

You desperately wished for him to softly hold your hand once more, to feel his lips graze your knuckles, to drink in the warmth of his touch.

Instead, he clutched his staff tightly, and dipped his hat to you.

“Until next time, Darling,” his voice, like silk, had echoed as waves of gold surrounded him. In a blink of an eye, you were left alone once more. Your heart pounding just like the first time, and every time after that.

Today, your heart was pounding just as fast. Except there was no Lucifer in sight.

Three days ago, you got a call from a good friend of yours who ran an art studio on the other side of Pentagram City. She realized she had double booked her classes, and had begged you to take over one for them.

“I’ve never taught anyone before…” You had trailed off over the phone, apprehensive to the idea.

“Nonsense! You are so well spoken, and you’re fantastic at this kind of stuff,” She exclaimed, “It’s not that hard, all you have to do is sit there while they trace the model and step in a few times to give them some tips on techniques. They aren’t a beginner class, so they shouldn’t need much instruction. You’re also in charge of guiding the model with the poses, but I already have a sheet that has them all, so you just need to follow along.”

You stood there for a moment, thinking. This was something totally strange to you. What were art classes like in Hell, anyway?

“Oh, AND they are going to be nude. At least partially, we make them cover their um, nether regions. That shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? I mean, you get paid for it so…”

Your friend trailed off, and the line went quiet for a moment as you mind raced. You looked around the now -empty atelier, your paintings finished and hung up around the hotel. You had nothing that was stopping you from doing it, not your skills, your time, or even the fact that the model was going to be exposed. You were in Hell, seeing someone like that was an almost daily occurrence. Telling her no just because of your nerves was a douchy thing to do, and you were far above that.

“Fine.” You conceded.

“YAYY!!” She shrieked in happiness, and you had to yank the phone away from your ear before it could start to bleed.

The next few minutes were her telling you where, when, and what to do. You had listened intently, memorizing her words. You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of strangers that you were teaching.

After hanging up the phone, had you went downstairs and to the hotel’s lobby to inform Charlie of your new job.

“I’m really sorry if this interferes with me working here, but I just couldn’t leave her hanging.”

“Pffft, it’s fine,” Charlie had waved it off, “You accepting the position as my new interior design manager is more than enough, i’m just glad you’re getting out of your comfort zone like this!”

You sighed a breath of relief. Good, no issues. You were worried she would have said no, and the fact she knows about Lucifer visiting you? Well, you weren’t sure how she was taking that. You never dared to ask, nor did she make any kind of indication her feelings about that.

“What’s it like?” She had asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“It’s nothing too bad, I think I might actually like it. I just help them with their techniques on mastering figure drawing by using a model as a reference. My friend says they are still looking for one to pose, so hopefully they find one in the next few days.”

“Interestingggggg” Charlie responded, her eyes holding a mischievous glint to them. You could see the gears turning in her head, but what for, you had no clue. You didn’t ask either.

You had spent the next few days preparing, you even had visited the studio. It was very pretty, and the room you were in was small, but rather homey. You had more confidence with your ability to lead the class now after locating specific areas of importance.

Which lead you to present day. You were hurriedly scrambling around the room, grabbing anything of necessity.

Your eyes jumped to the clock, and a squeak of panic escaped you as the class’ starting time got closer and closer. Finally placing the last pencil in your bag, you raced down the stairs, beelining for the door.

“Where you going in such a rush, Hot Cakes?” Angel Dust called out to you from the bar, Husk next to him as he poured Angel another drink.

“To class, do you know where Charlie or Alastor is?” You questioned them.

A rush of wind tickled your back, and you whipped around to see the Radio Demon himself looming behind you.

“Hello, my friend!” Alastor’s toothy grin on full display.

“I heard you were looking for Charlie, unfortunately she left not too long ago. She said it was something of great importance, and that it could shape the future of the hotel. But do not worry, I am here to assist you!”

You placed your hands together into a praying motion, trying your best to appeal to the demon’s better nature. If he had one.

“Can you pretty, pretty please send me to the Regal Fortune Studio? I’m doing a class there and I need to get there on time.” You begged.

Alastor’s eyes squinted in thought. Before his smile widened more than ever.

“Alright, I suppose so.”

You didn’t get to utter a thank you before the demon snapped his fingers, and dark energy crackled around you. Cold suddenly gripped at your shoulders, and your vision blurred.

You squeezed your eyes shut, unsure of what would happen next.

‘Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me’

Suddenly, light hit your eyelids and you slowly opened them to see the studio before you, just steps away from the front door.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, before yanking open the door.

The door to the classroom was slightly ajar, and you could hear faint voices inside. Indicating that everyone but you was ready to begin.

You crossed the lobby, ready to pull on the handle of the door, before a slight movement in the corner of your eye caused you to turn your head.

At the far end of the room, you could partially see long, blonde hair sticking out into view. Then, you heard the stranger speak to herself. Quiet grumblings of a feminine voice as they berated themself.

You raised an eyebrow.. could it be?

“Charlie?” You asked slowly.

The stranger squeaked, their hair pulled out of view. You heard a thump against the wall, as though they’ve pressed themselves against it in an attempt to hide.

You slowly tip toed the hallway, before whipping your body around the corner, surprising the mysterious figure.

“Charlie!” You shrieked in surprise at the sight of her, crouched against the wall. Her eyes widened in shock, and she let out a shriek of her own. Her eyes darted around, before she pulled herself up to meet your gaze.

“Oh my gosh heyyyyy, I didn’t expect to see you here!” She mocked innocence.

“Bullshit,” you retorted, “I told you where I was going like three days ago. Why are you really here?”

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she bit her lip. As if she was deciding whether to tell you the truth, or another lie.

Suddenly, she let go of the breath she held, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Okay.. the truth is, when you told me you were hosting an art class I was so thrilled! For you, of course. But then, I thought about how much you and my dad were getting along! Then, I thought about how you guys seemed to have the shared interest of art. So I.. told him about the class?”

“And?” You questioned, irritation lacing your voice. You really did not have time for this.

“And I told him about how you were still looking for a model, and you know how he is. He doesn’t have a problem doing things like that in front of people, and he’s getting better at being around people in general..”

You gripped Charlie by her shoulders when she trailed off again, shaking her.

“Spit it out! What about your dad?!”

“HE AGREED TO BE THE MODEL FOR YOUR CLASS BUT I HAD NO IDEA THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE NUDE UNTIL WE SHOWED UP BUT HE JUST SAID GOODBYE AND WALKED INTO THE BACK ROOM!!”

You stopped dead, your breath caught in your throat. You turned your head slightly, eyeing the classroom door.

“Your dad… is in there… naked?” You finally managed to get the sentence out, your gaze returning to Charlie in a look of disbelief.

This was a joke, right? There was noooo way you were going to walk in there a minute and see Lucifer there. This was just a terrible (-bly good?) dream.

Charlie nodded in defeat, her head hung low.

“I don’t even have the mental strength to go in there. I couldn’t stop him, even if I wanted to. He was dead set on this.”

You rubbed a hand along your face, gathering your thoughts.

“Well, there’s no stopping it now,” You said, rolling your shoulders in preparation, “Guess I have a class to teach.”

“Have fun..?” Charlie smiled innocently at you. Her plan was working, after all.

You shot her a glare before crossing the lobby once more, and pulled open the door. You stepped inside, breath hitched, and gently shut the door behind you.

In front of you, four older women sat behind easels with a blank white canvas attached. If they noticed your arrival, they didn’t show it. Instead, they giggled in the direction of the slightly lifted stage. You couldn’t see who was on the stage, but the familiar voice with giddy amusement told you exactly who it was.

“You’re finally here!” Lucifer called, and you did nothing but stand there for a moment.

Straightening your back, you exhaled a deep breath, and walked forward. Right past the stage. You kept your eyes in front of you, ignoring the golden gaze that trailed your figure.

You positioned yourself between the platform and the women who had finally stopped giggling and whispering to each other, and cleared your throat.

“Hello, everyone. I’m your instructor for today, unfortunately Renee couldn’t be here today. We’ll be going over the usual though, figure drawing with the model present today.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, before opening them with renewed energy.

Slowly, you turned on your heels and pivoted in the direction of the platform. Your eyes widening at the sight.

Before you, on a long, red couch lay the King of Hell. Lucifer Morningstar, in all his glory. Shirtless, with no pants in sight. Thankfully, a thin, barely-hiding-anything sheet covered his waist section.

You met his gaze, a playful smirk etched on his lips. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, gauging for a reaction.

You made sure not to give him one. If he thought he was going a reaction from you in front of all these people, he was wrong.

“Let’s start by doing a quick sketching exercise, take about ten minutes to do your best and draw the model in front of you. Once the timer goes off, we’ll review and go over some techniques, before switching to a much longer pose.”

You clicked the timer, and the faint ticking of its gears cemented you into reality.

“Is that Lucifer?” One of the ladies whispered to her friend a chair over. Her friend shrugged, “I have no idea.. but boy, is he handddssoomee.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore their gossip.

Sitting in the chair farthest from the group, you crossed your arms, your gaze resting on the floor. Was he looking at you right now?

You sat there for a moment, before realizing you couldn’t ignore him forever. He was the model after all. Soon you’d have to be helping him change poses anyway.

You looked up, drinking in the view. He was lazily leaning against the back of the velvet couch,

His hair, with no hat to cover it, stuck to his face messily with sweat. As he adjusted his head, a few strands of curls fell in front of his eyes. His intense stare slightly masked.

Was the room getting hot, or was it just you?

His eyes were locked on you, that stupid smirk still on his face. You sent daggers back to him.

He replied with a wave of his fingers.

You refused to let yours eyes travel any farther than his face, not ready for what kind of images your mind would give you regarding what was underneath the sheet.

“Did you know the Renaissance was pretty famous for constantly expanding its artistic art forms?” A voice smooth as butter filled the silence.

What the hell was he doing?!

“Believe it or not, the naked human was a very big inspiration for many of their paintings. No sheet in sight.”

Some of the women perked up in interest at Lucifer’s words. You couldn’t tell if they were actually interested in what he had to say, or just to hear his voice as it commanded the room’s attention.

“For an era so virtuous,” He teased the last part, reminding you of your discussion days earlier, “They so did love their scandalous marble status.”

He let that sink in, and you rolled your eyes dramatically at him. You couldn’t believe this was how Charlie planned on setting the two of you up.

A candle lit romantic dinner? Nah. A trip to the movies? Boring, apparently.

Were you against the idea of getting closer with the ‘Big Boss of Hell’? Of course not! He made you laugh and was actually interested in your ideas. This was just not how you expected it to go down.

“Keep talking, pretty boy!” One called from behind her easel.

Before he could speak again, the timer shrieked in your palm. You shot up from your seat, clasping your hands together loudly.

You turned your back to Lucifer as you began instructing the class, showing them a few techniques on how to straighten their lines, and how to hold their pencil just the right way that would give them a much thicker line for specific parts of the body.

“Alright, now, we’re going to have the model switch positions.”

Grabbing the paper that held all the different poses, you held it out to him, your finger tapping against the specific one in question. It showed the figure in a front facing view, one hand closed in a fist supported their chin, the other tucked neatly underneath. As if they were listening intently to some hot gossip.

“I’m afraid I can’t see what‘s on the paper. Perhaps, if you come a little closer and show me?

You groaned internally, he was enjoying this too much. You strided over to him. His gaze followed you, his grin only widening as you closed in on where he laid.

“You need to turn facing them,” You commanded the King himself. He pivoted, his body fully facing the group of gawking onlookers. He gave them a wink, and they hid behind their easels, their whispers fast and beathless.

“Now, you have to move your arm.. like this.” You spoke, reaching out one hand. You hesitated for a minute. You’ve never been so.. upfront with like this.

Reaching down, you gently circled your fingers around his wrist. Slowly, you allowed your hand to slip down, reaching his forearm.

His body was hot to the touch, and you felt like melting right then and there. Maybe it was time just to accept defeat, this man was just too good looking.

You felt the muscles of his arms shift, and you halted for a half a second.

Did he just tense?

Maybe you weren’t the only one who could be teased.

You guided his arm forward, and then up. Sliding your fingers, ever so gently, around his knuckles. You squeezed, and his hand enclosed into a fist. You guided it underneath his chin.

“Touchy today, aren’t we?” He spoke quietly to you, his voice dripping with velvet allure as you positioned him as the image on the paper showed.

“You be quiet.” You scolded him, trying your best to bring on your most serious face.

His quiet chuckle in response made you drop the face instantly. It was obvious you were pretty bad at this kind of thing, at least compared to Lucifer.

You grabbed his other arm, and gently tugged it underneath. Letting it lay neatly below him.

Taking a step back, you admired your work.

You were going to return to your seat, before a thought crossed your mind. You took a step forward, closing in on Lucifer again.

“And one more thing…” You started.

Using two fingers, you grazed the bottom of his chin, firmly pressing upward. Instinctually, his head followed the motion. He met your eyes, his gaze intensifying.

“Good boy.” You teased, your voice laced with a hint of sultry satisfaction.

You didn’t miss his pupils dilating into slits and his breath hitching slightly. You just turned on your heels, not giving him a second glance before returning to your seat.

You tilted your head at him slightly, looking at him through your eyelashes. Your lips curling into a provocative smirk as you gripped the timer.

Maybe now this would be an even match.

“Begin.”

Time flew by once more, and this time, Lucifer refused to meet your gaze. Instead, he was purely focused on the easels in front him.

“Tell me, my dear artist,” He began, addressing the demon woman before him. Her eyes widened when she realized he was speaking to her.

“If we were back in the Renaissance, would I make quite the muse?”

“Pardon?” The lady asked timidly, her voice coming out in a whisper.

“How about a statue? Think about that. Tall, Marble-skinned, and… lacking this rather uncomfortable cloth.”

The woman’s face turned bright red. Her mouth opened and closed, her tongue refusing to cooperate. Lucifer knew how to play this game well.

Then, he turned his head to you.

“What about you, stranger? Would you think i’d look good in such a form?”

You crossed your legs, leaning back in your chair.

“If the statue could stay quiet, while the class finished their work. Then, perhaps.”

The angel huffed, averting his gaze. He blew a few strands of hair out of his face, before continuing his blank stare at the wall.

The timer in your palm rang once more. You lifted yourself out of the chair. This was it, the last pose.

You strided back to Lucifer, his smoldering gaze on your figure as you approached.

For this pose, he needed to be off his stomach. You weren’t going to roll him like a log, or go anywhere near his torso. That was too brazen of an act for you to commit to, at least with all the eyes on you. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the white sheet. You tugged with all your might.

With an oomph he rolled along with it, he shoulder blades digging into the cushions as he landed exactly where you wanted.

Before the ladies could get even a glimpse, you hurriedly adjusted the sheet back onto him.

“Impressive, bending the devil himself to your will.” He commented as you continued to adjust his arms.

Ignoring him, you moved onto his legs, positioning them slightly.

“Careful~” He chided.

You said nothing to that either. Once he was in the correct pose, you released him. You glanced at his hair, now messily covering his face.

You reached forward and, splaying your fingers, pushed his hair back behind his head. You let your nails softly graze his scalp before you tugged them free.

“Sorry, can’t have your curls covering your face for the girls back there.”

“I bet they wished they were in your position,” Lucifer hummed “Few rarely are.”

You chuckled softly, “Please, the view looks better from back there.”

He let out an audible “Ha!” as the words left your lips and you turned away from him once more. You knew that must’ve stung, sending a blow to the prideful king’s ego.

Thirty minutes went by as you sat there, you spent more time examining your hands than meeting the gaze of the angel across the room.

This had turned into quite an eventful class, you couldn’t lie. You also didn’t expect such a shameless attitude from Lucifer, he was much more timid back in your painting room. Perhaps there was a side of him you still had yet to meet.

To be honest, sitting here, watching the clock tick by, you were pretty surprised this man had managed to stay near-perfectly still these past few hours.

Another thirty, and the timer rang its last chime. You had been positioned behind the drawing ladies, giving them critiques on their work.

You ignored the fact it was Lucifer you kept staring at on their canvas, instead simply regarding it as charcoal lines in need of straightening.

You wished them farewell at the doorway as they left. You hoped they had at least a pleasant time, since they’d have at least a good story to tell to their girlfriends over the phone.

Shutting the door with a soft thud, you sat there for a moment before your shoulders dropped in exhaustion. You honestly weren’t used to that kind of atmosphere, since your work consisted of you alone in a quiet room all day.

Taking a few steps backwards farther into the room, your gaze landing on the couch atop the platform. It was empty. Your eyes widened, did Lucifer just leave you here?

You rushed out of the classroom and strode into the lobby, searching for any signs of him.

“Wow, that little sneaky piece of-”

“I’m right here.” Came a familiar voice behind you.

You jumped, whipping around to find Lucifer dressed fully. Hat and all. Now this is what you were used to. Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow.

“What was that back there?” You motioned to the room behind you.

“My daughter invited me to look good in front of people and I did an outstanding job, as usual.”

“As the model? You couldn’t have just used your position as King to get a spot behind the easel instead?”

Lucifer grinned widely, leaning back against the wall. Could this have been his plan, and not Charlie’s? Now you weren’t so sure.

“Unfortunately, not many of us have a skill as perfected as yours with a brush.”

You accepted that praise. You had worked hard for it.

“And, not many people have as great of a photogenic face as me. So, we’re square.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you walked away. Lucifer kept pace as you both exited the studio, heading toward the curb.

“That reminds me,” Lucifer halted, reaching into his pocket to fish for something.

You stopped beside him, the mystery item in his coat pocket piquing your interest.

“I fixed it!” He held the the paint-vomiting rubber duck out to you, wiggling it in delight.

“You did?”

“That’s right. This bad boy can now pop out six different colors, you just have to pull its beak.”

“That actually really cool,” You laughed, taking the rubber toy from him. You turned it in your hands, maybe later you’d pretty it up with some fresh paint.

You looked up at him again, his golden eyes shimmering from the bright neon backdrop. You have much more to say to him, but your thoughts were jumbled from the day. There was one, though.

“You know, next time you should just ask.” You gripped the duck firmly in the palm of your hand, lowering your arm.

“Ask what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Luci. You’re telling me you hijacked my class because you had a change in career choice?”

His smile turned playful again, and he pivoted to face you, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Maybe, maybe not. That depends if i’ll be seeing you next week?” His eyes met yours with a questioning stare.

You gave him a warm-hearting smile, nodding your head.

“As always.”

His smile widened, and with a tap of his staff. Golden waves cascaded around you. It wasn’t cold, like Alastors. Instead, it was warm and relieving, like face planting into your pillows after an exhausting day.

As your vision began to obscure, you saw his face peak into the cascades of light, his hand reaching forward.

“I almost forgot.” His voice echoed, distorted by the magic as it circled them.

His hand enclosed around your own, and planted a kiss right onto your wrist. His lips lingered for a moment, as did his grip around your hand, as if your time together was too fleeting to let go.

You promised silently it wasn’t.

The light rushed over you suddenly, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to keep from being blinded. Lucifer’s touch vanishing with your sight.

Feeling your feet planting on solid ground, your eyes widened to familiar surroundings of the hotel lobby. You were home, and Lucifer was no where in sight.

“Hey, Hot Cakes!” Angel Dust called, still seated in the same spot at the bar, “How’d it go?”

——————

🤍 alright, let me know what you think of this!! your comments are appreciated, esp if you have any ideas on what to do next!

💜 the kisses are getting higher! part 3?

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #did i do the sexy good?#my asexual ass is trying y’all #this man has been in one ep and we’re all snarling over him jesus

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evilminji · 4 months

Text

Speaking of Summoning?

We don't see people fuck it up enough. Or CAPTIVES deliberately fuck up their captor's work. Like? Yeah, you are hogtied so tight you look three parts chain to one part man, but you can still WIGGLE.

Aggressively wiggle over that rune until it's too blurry to function! Kick at it with your heel until you scrape the paint! Smear that shit around! You're not here because you WANT to be! Fuck being a polite hostage. Make their life difficult!!!

Or BETTER?

The "$4000 bucks for chalk" take!

It's not the MATERIALS that make John "fuck you" Constantine a force to reckoned with. It's the DECADES of time, training, mistakes, fuck ups, FIXING those mistakes and fuck ups, then surviving the resulting fires.

Any idiot with a voice and some poor impulse control, can use most of those books.

John is GOOD at what he does, because he SURVIVED it. Knows when to stop. What to fuck up on purpose. HOW to do it. And what the results will be.

You're not impressive because you can light your dick on fire with magic.

You're just an idiot.

And when some "you are held back by your FEAR~!" Delusions of grandure fucko, one AGAIN crawls out of the muck like he's something God damned special, and not on the quick bus to a gory unspeakable end? Plays fast and loose with things that SHOULD NOT be let free? Yeah, John exhausts himself keeping millions of people from learning what the inside of Hell looks like.

Wakes up here.

Honestly surprised he wakes up at all.

Most of Dark is here. And Every Single One looks UNSPEAKABLY pissed. Like they got chewed on by a tree thrasher. That was probably on fire, given half the burns he's seeing.

The bastards monologuing, probably thinks they're hanging off his every word. Arrogant prick. Mostly though it's just intense eye contact and eyebrow charades over gags. Head gestures. Seeing who has what and if anyone's concussed. Honestly? You get good at shit like this, after a few too many times bound and gagged.

First mistake always is and has been, not killing them when you had the chance.

But... Zatanna is looking way too pale. And when she sharply gestures with her head? He sees WHY.

Blood on the floor. Not random. Just shitty, shitty writing and no binding agents. Oh sweet merciful fuck. It's not even CHARGED. No grooves to HOLD the blood in a way to keep most of it away from the air. Just splatter painted with some cheap brush on the unscrubbed floor, mixing and contaminated by god knows what, IN LAYERS.

Because it keeps drying.

Because OF COURSE IT KEEPS DRYING, YOU FUCK.

You are DOING IT WRONG.

Is he using THEIR blood? Oh sweet fuck he is. Are you ser-!? One of them is a CHIMPANZEE! Blood's blood literally changes! John's is fucked up! This idiot really things you can just slap it down like PAINT and trot off on your merry lil way, doesn't he? Why don't you just throw "Chemicals" at it next! Big ol bag of whatevers on hand!

At least he has people to share his outrage and horror with.

Oh god, is he STILL talking? Really. REALLY? How long has he...?

Wait. WHAT.

Crazy pants has "found" (more likely was lead by the nose too) a way to True Name Summoning people?! As in "kidnap from literally anywhere and bind them to your will, because unlike normal Summoning Targets they can't fuck off back home under their own power, so it's either submit or stay trapped until you die"??! Oh fuck. Oh shit, oh fuck.

And, OF COURSE, he's going to TEST his new fun trick?

On the Justice League.

Fucker, turns and starts chanting. John is closet, but everyone throws themselves forward. Even though none of them can really move, they have too TRY. His eyes shoot around the shit writing. Trying desperately to make out familiar symbols. Anything. Something. THERE!

He never thought he'd be grateful for all those far too drunk nights and pounding morning hangovers. But he is FAST wiggling across the floor, scrunching and swinging himself around, too sharply scrape the heel of his boot at the concrete floor, just inside that omenious off color Summoning. The layers of blood, painted down again and again to keep the "fresh", stick together like paint chips. Are raised just enough, his shoe tred catches, and all but pops the rune he's aiming for clean off.

Power surges as the spell completes.

He yanks his foot back before he runs the risk of losing it.

The light flares. And between one moment and the next? There are white hazmat boot standing just on the other side of the writen line, from John's face. He looks up into a young, pallet swapped, face. Nightwing, younger then he should be, wrong colors, different uniform. Confused look on his face quickly melting to that familiar "someone's about to get their ass kicked" look as he assesses the situation.

John grins like the MEANEST lil shark. (And yes, he DID steal this look of an ex.)

It WORKED.

Because half the people behind the kid? Not THEIR League. Hero's, yeah, he left that rune alone. But the "civilian identity" that was tied up in the "of this reality" one? Whoops! Guess it was forced to grab any applicable version of the Hero, from the Multiverse, who WASN'T currently off duty. Sure hope your bindings work on THEM!

AND it didn't tip off every single hero OFF duty!

The kid steps over the binding line, bends down, and snaps the chains around John with his bare hands. Offers him a hand up. He takes it. Gets a front row view of alternate versions of his colleges testing to see who is and isn't able to step out. Quiet a few are. Oh dear~, oh dear~. All these Heros! What's a lad to do, huh chucklefuck?

They would like a word.

@nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @babbling-babull

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing #the And Find Out Summoning Au #john has trauma related to this EXACT MECHANISM #it is BRANDED into his trauma centers #he will not be forgetting any time soon how to fuck with a Summoning #every SINGLE WAY it can go wrong #he knows it now #he has too

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craisinsensation1029 · 4 months

Text

Place Hands Here

Suguru Geto

originally posted on AO3! :) this was sugu's birthday fic :3

fem reader, established relationship, vaginal sex, some dry humping, choking (geto), riding, referenced cannabis use

3.5k

MDNI

“Thank you, baby,” Geto says with so much fondness in his voice as he rests his hand on your thigh and gives it an ample squeeze. The size of his hands never fails to amaze you, palms splaying and engulfing the thickness of your thighs with no issue; veins on his hands serving as a roadmap to the most handsome face you’ve ever seen.

It’s been a little over a year since you started dating, but his velvety voice still warms your chest nearly every time he speaks. It provides the same comfort as a blanket knitted with ounces and ounces of love; every stitch curated to provide your brain with a rush of dopamine. Gentle, yet every bit commanding and domineering. He can make a king hand over their throne to him with just a few words without even trying, you’re pretty sure.

“I had a great time,” he adds on, pressing a soft kiss to the temple of your forehead.

“You better have.” Resting your hand over his, your thumb brushes against the skin on the top of his palm. His skin is always smoother than yours, soft and supple like clouds floating through the bluest of skies. Every gentle graze of yours still manages to send a jolt down his spine. “Or else I would have cried.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” His soft chuckle fills the space in the back of the Uber you two are in.

City lights illuminate the night as a comfortable silence falls over the two of you, soft patter of rain against the window mixed with the crooning of Radiohead filling the space. A sigh of content leaves your lips as your head rests on his shoulders, heavy from all the events of the day.

It’s been a great day—a long, but great day.

Time wanes, only about an hour remaining in the momentous day that is Geto’s birthday.

He’s a simple man, never asking for much and always appreciating what is given to him. It’s one of the things you love about him, but it also drives you up a wall. He knows this, always teasing you that there’s no reason to stress yourself out regarding his general satisfaction with however the day is celebrated. With you, anything is ideal.

Even if that means telling you again and again that there’s no need to worry about things being perfect when you’re already by his side. Still, his heart thumps knowing every little thing you do is with his joy in mind.

Like starting the day with a perfectly rolled joint and taking him to one of his favorite diners for breakfast. Large appetites fueled by cannabis were quelled with what he considered to be the best pancakes he’s ever tasted. Saccharine from the syrup giving him a needed rush as you whooshed him off to the next destination for the day.

Serenity seeped into his bones as the masseuse worked all of the knots out of his back. Just a few feet away you also laid face down on a massage table, every kink rolled and flattened out. In the space between the table your fingers were intertwined, yours squeezing his just a little bit harder when the masseuse hit a particularly rough spot.

Celebrating another lap around the sun was always an occasion for indulgence. Another joint was shared, both of your consciousnesses melting like wax in your bodies as you whisked him away to the next activity.

Empty canvases were soon filled with brilliant pastel hues as paintbrushes made calculated strokes. Geto always seemed to excel at most things, a picturesque sunset that looked like—no, probably looked even better than a postcard replacing the previously white surface. Yours looked more like a toddler having way too much fun using paint for the first time, but of course he paid you a compliment anyway.

A quick lunch stop was followed by a limited rerelease of one of his favorite movies. He’s seen the movie hundreds of times by now, and even in the darkness of the movie theater you can still make out the crinkles by his eyes when he smiles at his favorite parts. It’s the boyish smile that you can never get enough of, the same one that makes your heart race and mind numb.

The day concluded with a free jazz concert in the park, sultry symphonies caressing your ears as you sat on a blanket in the grass cuddled up next to Geto. Yellow fairy lights adorned the tree as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, showering you with his gratitude for making sure he enjoyed every second of the day.

Even as rain started to fall from the sky and shroud you both in a light layer of mist, he was still soaring high, enamored with every bit of effort you put into the day. Every nervous lip bite as you awaited his reaction to the next destination, the smile on your face when he kissed your lips and assured it was more than what he could have ever asked for made his heart swell. He even let out a laugh when you started pouting and apologizing at the shift in the weather, once again kissing away any of your worries.

As the Uber arrives at your shared apartment, he grabs both of your canvases and helps you out of the car. It’s a short walk to the door that you unlock, throwing your purse down on the kitchen island and leaving your shoes by the door. Feet relieved from the black platform boots you wore with a red, pleated miniskirt and long sleeved black cropped top, you let your body sink into the plush, velvet sofa in the living room.

Geto follows your lead, taking off his shoes and sinking into the spot next to you. Finding more comfort in his body than the sofa you straddle him, pressing your chest against his. The soft contours of your body are always so malleable when in proximity to the defined ridges of his; warmth from his body always setting every one of your nerve endings ablaze. Just the simple movement of his hand brushing against your lower back is enough to make you writhe, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

The melding of your bodies is akin to adjacent puzzle pieces, two parts that are meant to be together no matter the circumstances. One hand caresses the side of his face, fingertips dancing across porcelain skin while the other creeps beneath his shirt. His taut muscles ripple beneath your touch, heart starting to beat faster in his chest when you say, “You’re so beautiful, Suguru.”

“I love it when you say that.” It doesn’t matter how many compliments he receives from others when yours are the only ones that makes his cheeks flush. Only your words are capable of making him feel this coveted. “I’m so lucky to be yours.”

“So am I,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. Chalking up your connection to either luck or fate has always been a debate warring in your mind, but in times like this when you’re staring into his smoldering gaze, you guess it really doesn’t matter. Strong arms encapsulate you tenderly, providing the space to be vulnerable without the fear of judgment. An irreplaceable bond that you know you’ll never share with anyone else.

His palms trace up the back of your thighs, traveling higher and higher until he securely has a grasp on both of your cheeks. He loves it when you wear skirts, eyes and hands always greedy to graze and grope at your thighs. His mind is always shameless, wandering to more sensual planes even in the most docile of moments. Instinctively you rock against him, core grinding against the erection growing in his jeans, a breathy pant leaving your lips.

“Bet that feels good,” he murmurs against your lips, thrusting his hips upward in tandem with your grinding. The rocking of your hips only makes his cock strain more in his jeans, the growing bulge only aiding in stoking the flames of your arousal. He groans when your hips start to move faster than his own, giving your ass a harder squeeze. “Shit, feels so good for me too, baby.”

The only thing you can feel is Geto, a thickness against your clothed cunt that’s already drenched through your panties, aching to be filled. With a whine you press your lips against his, simultaneously removing your hand from beneath his shirt to undo the buckle on his belt. Kissing him is like being served your favorite meal over and over again; the familiar taste of his mouth on your tongue never failing to be the most exquisite flavor. No variation is needed when the consistency he provides sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body that makes your back arch and toes curl.

Hands move fast and lips move slow as your bodies chant a desperate plea to stay connected to each other. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip lasciviously as he gives your ass a hard squeeze, fingernails making soft crescent indents in your skin. It’s always a tantalizing kind of pain, one that only makes you moan and open your mouth to invite his tongue inside. Adjusting your heads so your lips are perfectly slotting against each other, your tongues collide as you manage to get the button of his jeans undone.

The hand on his face moves to glide through his silky tresses as his tongue continues to caress yours. It’s give and take, letting your tongue push past his lips, sharing the combined taste of your desire. His eyes close as he revels in the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, scraping and pulling just the way he likes it. All the while your tongues still slide against each other, sinking deeper and deeper into a sea of ecstasy.

As desperate as you are to keep kissing him, to drown in the sea of euphoria that his lips provide, the need to have him stretch you out and fill you up takes precedence. His brow furrows when you abruptly pull your lips away, unsure if he suddenly did something wrong. While he thinks he might have squeezed just a bit too hard, the only problem is your own greed. Without words, you pull your shirt over your head and remove your bra. It’s muscle memory for his hands to reach out and touch your breasts, but your hands are already at the hem of his shirt, motioning for him to take it off. He easily complies, ridding himself of the material while you raise your hips to shimmy off your skirt and push the waistband of his boxer briefs down.

“Fuck,” he hisses when his cock slaps against his stomach, pearls of precome steadily leaking from the angry, red tip. He throws his head back momentarily, but snaps his attention forward when you grip him at the base. He can’t help but throb in your hand, and you swear he grows just a little bit harder when you squeeze his thick length firmly. He sucks in a breath as your hand begins to stroke him, thumb running over the slit and smearing his precome down the length of his shaft. A hot trail of spit drips from your mouth and onto his cock to ease any friction, providing a smooth motion for your hand to continue working him.

“You’re so big, Sugu,” you coo, and he throbs in your hand again. His back sinks further into the sofa as you continue stroking him, only sounds filling the room are his soft pants and the slick of your hand moving up and down his cock. Another part of him that you’ll never get tired of. Every time his cock twitches in your grasp you can feel your own heat pulsing, and you know there’s only one solution.

Pushing the crotch of your panties aside, you rest one hand on his shoulder for balance as you line your entrance up with his cock. “Easy, baby,” he advises, moving one hand from your ass to hold his cock steady for you as you sink onto his inches. It’s a tearing sensation every time he enters you, a pressure that always makes you whine as you sink your head into the crook of his neck.

“Always so tight for me,” he hisses as his cocks sinks deeper into your heat, stretching out your walls in the most delicious way. Your hands wrap around his neck, breaths become shallow as you adjust to his girth inside of you. His hand returns to your cheek once he’s fully seated inside you, tip of his cock brushing against your sweet spot. “Fuck, your pussy was just made for me, you know that?” he breathes, cock already pulsating inside you. “Perfect fucking pussy, and it’s all mine.”

Despite the trembling of your legs, your breathing returns to normal as your hips roll forward. Your tongue darts out, licking a lewd stripe against his neck, the salty and sweet taste of his skin on your tongue further fueling the motion of your hips. His eyes fall closed as he relishes in your tight warmth hugging his cock, the softness of your skin in the palm of his hands.

“F-fuck.” No stranger to his cock despite the initial shock of him stretching you out each time, your hips develop a steady rhythm, rolling against his pelvis like lazy tides crashing over the shore. Your clit grazes against his abdomen which he flexes with each forward moment. It makes you whine each time, but he doesn’t do anymore than that, letting you set the pace, using his cock as you please because no matter what you do it’ll always feel so fucking good.

Without ceasing your movements, you remove your head from his neck to plant another kiss on his lips. He returns it, sinking his teeth into your bottom lips to match the pressure of his nails sinking into the flesh on your ass.

“Need you to do something for me,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire against your lips as he flexes his abs again.

“What’s that?” you ask with another roll of your hips.

He grabs one of your wrists, moving it from behind his neck to place your hand around the thick column of his neck. Shock paints your face, and all he does is flash you a crooked smile. This is… new.

“Go on,” he insists. “Squeeze.”

“O–Okay.” Hesitantly you do as he asks, giving his neck a squeeze. He looks entirely unimpressed.

“Baby,” he gently warns. “Stop playing with me.”

Hoping the second time will be the charm, you squeeze again. This still isn’t enough to satisfy him. The third time doesn’t seem to be the charm either, despite what everyone seems to believe. He only tsks and shakes his head.

“What am I supp—”

The rest of your sentence vanishes from existence when a strong hand encircles your throat, squeezing with a practiced pressure that gives you more of a head high than the joint you shared with him earlier. It’s nothing more than a reflex when your cunt clenches around his cock, a muffled mewl leaving your lips with the limited air supply he’s left you with.

“You see that?” He directs your gaze down to his lap, in the space where the two of you are connected. The view only makes your walls constrict around him as you whine. It’s a lewd sight, your cunt swallowing his cock whole with traces of your arousal slicking his pelvis. He clenches his teeth and lets out a low groan as he takes in the view himself, letting his thumb slowly circle your clit. “Feel how hard your little pussy is squeezing my cock?” He lazily thrusts his hips upward, making you clamp around him again. “Feel how you’re just sucking me in?”

It’s dizzying, the pressure between your thighs and the one on your clit keeping any real words at bay. All you can do is nod pathetically as he continues his ministrations.

“Good girl.” His grip around your throat loosens, but he doesn't let up on your clit, continuing to trace circles on the bundle of nerves. “That’s how hard I need you to choke me, baby. Now do it right this time before I get mad.”

He releases his grip from your throat completely and throws his head back, an open invitation for your hands.

With more conviction in your actions, your hand circles his throat again and gives a much harder squeeze. His Adam’s apple bobs, a twisted smile slowly spreading across his face as you squeeze again, cock throbbing inside you.

“Haa–ngh,” he moans, a delirious head high taking over. “Just like that baby,” he praises as you apply pressure again, heeding his instructions perfectly. “ Fuck , you’re amazing, so amazing.”

His hands find their resting place on your ass again as he continues to contract his abdomen against your clit, eyes rolling to the back of his head while your hands take on their new role of becoming his favorite necklace.

His pulse races rapidly against your hands as they stay tightly wrapped around his throat, and you don’t know if you’ve ever seen his face painted with such bliss. Head thrown back, locks falling behind him as you continue riding him, chasing your orgasm at the same time his is approaching.

He doesn’t know why he hasn’t asked you to do this before, but there isn’t a chance he can go without this feeling now. He plants his feet on the floor, thrusting into your heat with dire need, hitting your sweet spot with each upward movement. “S-Sugu,” you moan, legs becoming more useless each time his perfectly curved cock stimulates that spongy spot inside you. Even with failing legs and his cock seemingly trying to drill into your brain until he's the only thing you can coherently think about, your hands continue squeezing his neck.

Harsh sounds of skin slapping against skin echo in the room with each wicked surge of his hips. The pace is no longer up to you as he groans, hands gripping your ass tightly with the same ferocity you have on his neck. “S-Shit. ” He can normally hold it, draw out a session for much longer but gosh, he never expected to be in such a frenzy from such a simple request. “Fuck, baby. Keep squeezing, that’s so good,” he babbles. “Fuck, gonna come so hard in your little pussy, gonna fill her right up.”

“Please,” you whine, clamping down around his cock at his words. This is what he wants, right? You layer your free hand over the one currently on his neck, and the added pressure is enough to make his vision blurry.

It’s absolutely a mouth watering sensation. He can’t help the laugh of joy that escapes him with the little bit of breath that he has, continuing to pound into your heat, drilling against that one spot until your legs are shaking and the only thing you’re able to moan out is his name.

“O-Oh my god, Sugu, ” you cry out, grip around his neck loosening, orgasm like a shaken up soda bottle threatening to burst open at any second.

“Keep squeezing for me, baby,” he grits out, his own impending orgasm only seconds away from rising to the surface. “Gonna come together, just keep squeezing, I’m almost there.”

Tears springing from the corner of your eyes, you nod, arms shaking as you use the last bit of strength in them to give a final, hard squeeze.

Geto explodes, a hot load of his cum decorating your insides as your cunt spasms around him, milking him for everything he’s worth. He hisses, rope after rope spurting inside you making you shiver.

“Hah– fuck,” he chuckles after a few moments of comfortable silence, cock still lodged inside you as your forehead presses against his. One of his hands caresses the sides of your face, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I love you, baby.” The words are laced with the utmost care and affection as he presses another chaste kiss to your lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you ask, squirming in his lap as his cum begins to leak out of you, pooling around his pelvis.

“For just being you,” he answers, his other hand landing on the opposite side of your face. “And for making this one of the best birthdays ever.”

“Even though I didn’t choke you hard enough the first time?” you joke.

“You have all the time in the world to get it right,” he jokes back, but in reality, he doesn’t care.

There really is no wrong when it comes to you. And as the clock moves into the hour of the new day and you settle against his chest, the soft sounds of your breathing replacing previous pants and moans, he knows with certainty there’s no one else he wants to take another lap around the sun with.

#getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto smut #geto x reader #suguru x reader #suguru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto suguru #suguru geto x reader #suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #ebs writes

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alice-angel12x · 22 days

Note

What if the twisted wonderland react the MC/Reader have a magical paintbrush just like epic mickey games?

Also this is yuu's paintbrush looks like btw

Yuu! Epic Mickey Twisted Wonderland

Here's a fun art peice I did cause the image was so fun.

Overblot boys (Riddle, Leona, Azul, and Jamil) React to Epic Mickey!Yuu

I remember when I first created Forgotten Wasteland, and how my apprentice made a mess of it all. While I am glad he repaired all the damage he has done, I couldn't trust him to not let his mischievous curiosity get the better of him. So I took up my magical brush and created a helper or a protector. They would keep watch and protect the toons of wasteland. They were an excellent student, they quickly mastered the magic of the brush. If only my other student was this obedient. (Geez Yen Sid, biased much).

Master Yen Sid watched Yuu gently and with a calculated stroke of the bush on the wasteland. The old wise wizard nodded with approval.

"You have done well," Yen Sid said as he gave a pat on Yuu's head.

Yuu smiled softly when they noticed their master holding his hand out, asking for his paintbrush back. They handed the wizards the brush, and suddenly began to dip it into the paint. Where he began to wave the brush in the air, creating something. Something big.

With a final stroke, there before him was a beautiful paintbrush. It was almost Yuu's height, as the wizard handed them the gift.

"Be very careful with this magic. With great strength, comes even greater responsibility. This is not something to play with willy-nilly," Yen Sid said sternly.

"Yes, Master Yen Sid. I promise to use this power for good," Yuu said, trying to contain their excitement.

"I know you will. I can see great things from you," Yen Sid said with a small smile. "Take good care of Wasteland."

If only Yen Sid knew, that his favorite pupil would vanish from under his nose. They would somehow end up in a place called Twisted Wonderland.

------------------------------------------

💗Riddle RoseHeart 💗

Before the blot:

When he first meets Yuu, he doesn't really take them seriously. Since the mirror says they are not a magic user.

He thinks the large paintbrush Yuu carries around is really inconvenient. And Does not look forward to all the potential mess it could bring.

After/during Blot:

Overblot Riddle struggled in the battle with Yuu. The most annoying thing they did was paint his rose bushes Blue, turning them against him.

Turns out Yuu and their magic paintbrush weren't as useless as Riddle assumed.

Yuu's finishing blow was a good whack to the head, dousing Riddle and the ink phantom with a powerful stream of thinner, erasing the blotted ink instantly.

Leaving an unblotted Riddle behind. Though Yuu gave Riddle one last splash of thinner for safe measure.

Leaving a crying drenched mess.

After fixing that, they left all of Heartslybuyal in awe as they watched the thinner in the brush turn to blue paint. And with many strokes of the brush, the unbirthday party was restored.

After that Riddle had a lot more respect for Yuu, and was a lot more curious of what else Yuu could do with their brush.

____________________________________

🦁Leona Kingscholar 🦁

Before Blot:

He could have cared less about this person. He thought they looked ridiculous with their giant brush. On top of that, they were magicless.

However, he did note that this new student smelt strange. Yet he paid them no mind.

After/during Blot:

Leona had a bit of an easier time against Yuu, cause of the howling sandstorm. Making it difficult for Yuu to toss the Thinner on the phantom and the inkblot.

So with the help of the first-year squad, moved upwind and with this. Yuu blasted Leona with a wave of magic Thinner.

The phantom quickly resolved, and Leona could only stare in shock as the Thinner swept him away.

Of course, they made sure to drench Leona in thinner to be sure all the inkblot was gone.

After the whole event, he was strangely enough. interested in going against the Ramshackle team. Even if it wasn't an official match.

He would smirk in interest as Yuu used their magic brush to create a flying broom for themselves. And some Toon as extra players for the team.

____________________________________

Azul Ashengrotto

Before Blot:

He was amused at most, like why would any person carry such a cumbersome thing around.

And they were magicless on top of that. What an odd individual. But for the most part, also didn't pay much attention.

Till the idea of obtaining the Ramshackle dorm. At first the ain't brush was interesting, but he simply assumed that it was some weird decoration.

Yet he did notice Yuu's strange hesitance of water. Specifically the idea of being in water. Azul would happily take advantage of Yuu's fears.

After/during Blot:

This was a frustrating battle for both fighters. Since Azul can keep spewing ink, just as much as Yuu can remove it.

But with the help of allies and friends, Yuu was able to wash away all the ink with their brush and thinner. With a good whack, to bring Azul back to his senses.

Even after the battle, Yuu seemed to refuse to go near the water. A phobia maybe, Azul thought to himself.

Azul is indeed interested in Yuu's power but finds them confusing too. Yuu wants to see the world under the waves, yet refuses to go anywhere near the water.

He tries to ask Jade and Floyd what they know about this student. But not even they could dig anything up about them.

____________________________________

Jamil Viper

Before Blot:

He honestly could care less about them in the start.

He sees them as a perfect pawn to overthrow Kalim. Jamil also notices Yuu's strange fear of water, even if it is in rain form.

But whatever it took to knock Kalim down, he did not care much. Though he did learn some interesting things about them. After using Snake whisper on them.

After/during Blot:

Yuu surprised attacked him, doused him in Thinner, and quickly took him down. Much to Jamil's emmerassement.

Last time he underestimates a person with a giant brush.

During the party in the desert, he saw Yuu sitting in the shade of the trees away from the oasis.

So he sat next to them. "So... Is it true you're made out of paint?"

Part 2, or a focus on one character at a time to have a mini story. (cause I have basically a fan fic Idea in my empty brain)

#twisted oc #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst oc #twst yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #epic mickey #epic mickey!reader #twst x reader #twst mc #riddle roseheart x reader #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader

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chaotic-minds-think-alike · 9 months

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Guess what time it is…….

CENTIPEDE TIME !!! she’s finally real,,,,,,,, based off Scolopendra hardwickei or the Indian tiger centipede

Before I go about the process I just want to say you guys have been soooo incredible and I love reading your reblogs and I love the idea knowing I’ve inspired a lot of people,,, the project, although it was a lot of work and I’m feeling not so great as of posting this, still motivates me to want to make another.

(Art process below)

This was entirely freehanded! I have a lot of experience working in 3D art settings that this part came easy to me but I started with a flat base shaped in the pose I’d like the creature in. I used one whole piece cut from a shipping box and filled in the gaps with tape; you don’t need a single piece for the base but for structural integrity it helps a lot. As you can see here I also cut the legs separate and glued them on using hot glue. The vertical cross sections are to give an early support for the structure of the creature, think about the frames of aircraft or boats. During this part I used a pen to mark the width and height of the previous section to get a gradual flow of shapes.

This next part I wish I got more documentation on but after the vertical cross sections I used soda boxes for the thinner and flexible cardboard to add contour lines along the length of the creature, gluing them on the cross sections. I did about 2 strips of this on either side to fill in the space and then I continued to use soda boxes to fold and shape the top of the creature, gluing onto the strips rather than the cross sections (this part was a mistake but I quickly adapted, no issues happened but it did make it slightly less secure). I also gave the legs vertical cross sections as well to shape them for the masking tape.

The worst part, taping everything. I used tape to further shape it how I wanted but that meant going over parts several times. I used 2 different widths of tape for this for efficiency but it doesn’t matter. The legs were very loosely taped and if squeezed then they’d lose their shape; I didn’t bother filling them in because I don’t have materials for that and I let the paper mache help support them instead. Tape was also used to fill any holes and gaps left by the cardboard skeleton.

The next phase is paper mache of which I haven’t done since 5th grade… I was not confident in this step. I used mod podge and a brush to smooth down the paper. Because I lacked materials I used fast food napkins instead of newspaper which worked totally fine, it just tended to tear a bit easier. Some areas required me to get hands on and I don’t really like the texture during this stage so that was fun (lie). I didn’t do too many layers, one for the body and 3 for the back and legs but some projects might demand more. I used half of a 16oz bottle of mod podge btw so please get more than you think you need.

Finally, texture hell!!! I did a base coat of white spray paint and painted everything else with acrylic. Start with your lighter colors first before doing darker ones! I originally mixed some yellow and orange for the body and realized it was too bright and so covered it with orange instead. It also wasn’t until later I realized I could’ve been smarter with my paint so I skipped over the segments that were going to be fully black, saving the orange for the rest of the body. I wanted my centipede to stand out and not look 2D color-wise so I also used the red for the head and tail to give gradients and edges to the orange segments and legs, later going back with burgundy to further darken them but not too much. For the black segments I also used a very watered down layer of sky blue to give a fake shine and show the intended structure of the segments. Do not be afraid to use your hands! I used mine to smudge my detail paints like the black fade on the legs and the back shading. To top it all off I sprayed a clear coat and punched two holes in the underside to hang it up, using thumbtacks angled upwards.

#myart #bug #insect #bugs #insects #centipede #centipedes #sculpture

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silent-stories · 11 days

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𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐈 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑... 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: a silly game leads to some confessions (jj's version of this)

You dangled your legs off your house's roof as the sun slowly sank on the horizon, painting the sky different shades of pink and orange.

The boy sitting next to you brought the cigarette he was holding between his fingers to his mouth and blew out a cloud of smoke from his nose, which the cool but not excessively cold breeze of that evening immediately blew away.

The shirt he'd refused to put on after the shower he'd taken before going up there lay beside him, even though you'd insisted that if he didn't put on clothes he'd catch a cold, and his bare chest rose and fell as he let smoke in and out of his mouth.

"Never have I ever…hurt myself trying to be funny." You said.

You always found it fun to play that game with JJ, every time you discovered new things about each other even though it's been several years since you've been playing it.

The rule was to always tell the truth, as if you were using one of those lie detectors they only used on criminals you saw on TV but sometimes you found yourself wondering if JJ had ever told you a lie during that game that maybe you had become too old for playing.

JJ chuckled. "I bet you already know the answer."

The light from the day's last rays of sunlight reflected off his ocean eyes, making them appear to be a hundred different shades of blue.

"Oh I know, but I want to hear it from you." You laughed, thinking about what had happened that morning several years ago when you were both little more than children.

"That tree was obviously unstable, it wasn't my fault!"

"That tree was unstable but you tried to climb it anyway."

"Tried? I did it!"

"Yeah and then you fell. And you broke your wrist."

"Yeah but you took good care of by me afterwards. That's when I knew I wanted to keep you."

"Wait, you wanted to keep me? I wanted to keep you so you didn't end up in other similar situations and risk your life every two days."

JJ laughed as he stubbed out his cigarette butt on the roof.

"It's your turn." You said.

"I don't know...I feel like I already know everything about you."

"Then ask me something you don't know."

He didn't say anything, as if he was carefully choosing his next question and after a few moments of silence you wondered if he had decided that the game wasn't worth playing anymore.

The birds had stopped chirping and the kids who usually played outside had gone back to their homes.

"Never have I ever...been in love."

Your head spontaneously turned to him but he was staring straight ahead, where the sun was now almost completely gone. His hair still damp from the shower clung to his neck and forehead and there hadn't been a moment since he'd stepped out of the bathroom that you hadn't repressed the urge to reach over to brush the dripping blonde strands from his forehead.

He was pretty, and there was never a moment in your life when you didn't think it.

And you absolutely were in love, probably not from the first moment you saw him because you were too young to know what love even was.

Now you knew.

But he was your best friend.

"No" You lied, "no, I don't think so."

JJ didn't answer, continuing to stare at an indefinite point in front of him. No funny or sarcastic comments, no jokes.

"It's your turn." He didn't turn to you.

"Never have I ever..." you thought about it for a moment, you had nothing to lose, right? "been in love."

"It's not fair. That's what I asked." He chuckled under his breath.

"I don't think there's a rule against asking the same question." You shrugged.

JJ rolled his eyes, then stayed silent for a few moments, as if thinking about it.

"Yeah." He ran a hand through his damp locks, "still am."

You have felt a strange sensation in the pit of your stomach and in your belly. I was a weird mix of fear and hope that you couldn't quite identify.

"Does she know?" You just wanted JJ to be happy, you didn't care if he would break your heart.

"Nah."

"Why?"

He snorted. "Because she doesn't like me that way."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because she's never even been in love."

JJ turned to you, finding your surprised expression.

"Yeah." He chuckled, his laughter was colder and less genuine than usual, "Hella embarrassing isn't it? I've been waiting for days if not months for the right moment to ask that stupid question during this game and when I finally work up the courage, she tells me she's never been in love. I almost wish you'd told me you were head over heels for that kook who always sits next to you and flirts all the time at every history class. Someone who deserves you. But like this? You make things even more hard because every time I'm around you I can't help but think about what it would be like-"

It was a way to stop his rambling, it was a way to tell him he was wrong, it was a way to tell him you had lied for the first time during the game.

Your lips were on his and your hand was finally in his still damp hair. It was short, a few seconds and it was already ended as if it had never been there.

"I thought... you said..." He stammered, surprised. On his lips the ghost of a smile.

"I lied. I'm sorry, I fucking lied. It's you. It's always been you."

In no time his lips were on yours for a second kiss.

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank fluff

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cherrycolacigs · 9 months

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𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞

18 and up! (Its smut 💀)

Summary: You have been dating Cedric for a while now and your ready to give him your virginity <3

( Female reader x Cedric Diggory)

Also this is my first time writing smut be nice to me pls

WARNINGS OMFG!!:

Ermm innocence kink, praise kink, losing vcard, SO many pet names, size kink, unprotected seggs, use of Y/N, this fic is LOOOONG. Grammar errors, just a few mistakes in general.😯😯💀💀 You have been warned.

It was late into the night, the halls of Hogwarts were empty and quiet. The moon shined through the windows, painting a soft light that bounced off the walls of the hallways.

You and Cedric walked hand in hand, you had just left a fun-filled night of dancing, running about, and being dumb teenagers with your friends. You made sure to be quiet because it was many hours after curfew and the last thing you wanted was to be caught by Filch. You could hear the soft snores and murmurs coming from the paintings on the walls as you silently made your way to the Hufflepuff dorms.

Eventually, you reached his dorm and Cedric opened the door, letting you go in first like a true gentleman. A bright and sweet smile was on his face as he looked down at you walking into his dorm and you couldn't help but smile back at how cute this six foot one Golden Retriever boy was.

You were alone, a result of the privilege of him being prefect and getting his own dorm.You kicked off your shoes before plopping down onto his large bed and he followed after you,closing the door behind him with a soft clink and sitting down beside you. He looked down over at you and finally spoke.

“Come here baby,” Cedric said softly, his comforting and strong arms opening in a welcoming manner.

You happily complied and crawled over to him, sitting yourself in his lap and he immediately wrapped his arms around your smaller body, pulling you close to him. He burrowed his face into your hair, inhaling the familar and sweet scent of his girlfriend.

“My love,” he muttered into your hair, kissing the top of your head.

You were being held tightly against his chest, your senses being flooded with the feeling of his warm and strong body and the faint smell of his aftershave and his laundry detergent in your nose. You relished in the feeling of your Cedric.

This was a weekly routine. At the end of the week your classes were over, no homework, no school the next day, Cedric would take you to his dorm to spend some time together to make up for the busy week you had both had. You would fall asleep in his arms every Friday night. It was comfortable, it was always the same. You rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him with a smile. “Kiss me,” you requested.

His eyes peered down lovingly into your own and he couldnt help but chuckle.

“Alright,” he agreed, leaning down slightly to capture you lips with his, pressing a kiss onto your mouth. He closed his eyes and cupped your face with both of his large hands. You felt his soft lips move against yours slowly, his tongue sliding across you lower lip, asking for entrance and you allowed, opening your lips and letting his tongue touch yours. He brushed his thumb over your cheekbone as you softly and slowly made out together. It wasn’t the first time, you had kissed like this before but Cedric had always made sure that it stopped before things got out of hand.

It started off sweet and innocent, but before either or you could stop it, it quickly transformed into a heated kiss, fueled by undertones of hunger. A soft moan escaped your lips and Cedric’s eyes shot open, blinking down at you in surprise as he pulled away from the kiss. In your entire relationship he had never heard you moan before because you had never done anything sexual before together. Cedrics breath grew a bit heavy, the little moan of yours making him feel himself become flustered.

“S-sorry,” you mumbled, your face turning red. You didnt mean for that to slip out and you felt as if you had ruined the moment, causing him to break the kiss. He stroked your cheek and shook his head a bit.

“No angel its ok, I just wasn’t expecting it,” he said quietly, hoping that you didn’t see the way he was behaving. He swallowed, his cheeks pinkening and his heart racing in his chest. He tried to ignore that you had gotten him turned on but you knew your boyfriend and you knew how he was feeling.

“Ced,” you looked up at him knowingly, silently telling him that you knew.

“Yes darling?” he asked, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“I think tonights the night. Im ready,” you told him, and he knew what you meant. You had actually been planning for this for a while, but you wanted to choose the perfect moment, and the perfect moment had fallen perfectly into your lap. His brow furrowed slightly in concern.

“Y/N are you sure?” he whispered, looking intently into your eyes to make sure you knew what you were getting yourself into. He was hesitant to finally sleep with you though he wanted it more than anything in the world and had been thinking about it for months in all honesty.Cedric breathed out slowly, his mind racing with thoughts of taking your virtue without mercy. He wanted it to be special and mean something though, one of the reasons he had waited so long. This was a big thing and he didnt want to ruin it so he was hesitant to finally give into his desires. He would be the first person to take your virginity and he wanted to do it right.

“Im sure,” you said certainly, taking his hand in yours. “Do you not want to?” you asked quietly, being confused at how he was hanging back.

“No of course I want to. I want this more than anything but I just dont want you to feel like im taking advantage of you or taking things too fast,” he expressed as he rubbed circles on your hand with his thumb.

“Cedric you aren't taking advantage of me and the fact you are so hesitant and you've waited so long proves that we aren't going to fast,” you reassured.

Cedric inhaled slowly and looked at you, searching your face for any hint of doubt or a change of mind, but you were sure in your answer and you were sure that it was him you wanted to give you your first time. A flood of desire clouded his mind at your consent and he nodded.

“Okay,” he finally replied.

He slowly and carefully moved his hands to unbutton your shirt, his long fingers working his way down your body as each button being undone revealed more and more until he slid off your top and let it fall to his floor. His heart was absolutely racing at seeing you in your bra for the first time, and his breath hitched in anticipation and need for you.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. You shivered and could feel your breath becoming quick and heavy at his touch. This was your first time ever being touched by him like this and it was so overwhelming and foreign but it felt incredible. With shaking hands he pulled your skirt down your thighs until it dropped down your legs and off your body.

Cedric then carefully reached behind you and unclipped your bra. His mind was racing as he undressed you, hardly being able to believe that it was actually happening. Your bra was stripped off of you and discared. His eyes were glued to your soft breasts that were now exposed to him.

He could feel himself growing hard under his pants and he was desperate to finally take you.. He took your chin in his forefinger and thumb, pulling your lips against his as his tongue invaded your mouth. His tongue swirled around yours, your tongues fighting for dominance. He had never kissed you like this before, this was sensual, hungry, slow and it felt amazing. He pulled back from the kiss to be able to admire your body again. It was the first time ever seeing you completely exposed to him and his entire mind was going into a frenzy.

He reached out to touch you, placing his hands on your breasts and feeling the soft flesh in his palms. His thumbs traced circles around your nipples causing a soft whine of pleasure to leave your lips and your whole body prickled at the sensation. His pupils were blown wide and his lips were parted, breathing heavily as his chest heaved, the sight of your body driving him mad. His hands glided down your sides, his fingers tracing the curves of your hips and thighs slowly and deliberately, wanting to savor the moment and delight in your body and memorize ever inch of you. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight, it was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen, and all the time waiting for it was worth everything.

“You are unbelievably gorgeous Y/N, I can hardly stand it,” he whispered gently, kissing your cheek. You sighed softly and looked up at him. He dipped his head down, sticking his head into the crook of your neck and gently nibbling and kissing the sensitve skin of your neck. You gasped and closed your eyes.

“Cedric,” you whined, gripping the edge of his bed as his lips made his way down your body, sucking and kissing your flesh, leaving pinkish purple marks behind. He hummed against your neck in reply, trailling his lips down your collarbone and down to your breasts.

Cedric’s mouth never left your body as he fumbled to unbutton his own shirt, his fingers trying to rid himself of the clothing between you both. He was losing his self control. Cedric cursed himself silently, knowing he needed to take things slow and make this special moment last as long as possible for you both but he was being drowned by floods of lust and need.

Once his shirt was off he unzipped his pants, trying to take his time, trying to make you both want it even more. He licked and sucked on your neck once more as you heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and his pants falling to the floor, leaving him in his black boxers.Your soft moans and sighs kept slipping from your lips as he left his marks on you, claiming you as his for the first time.

Cedric kicked his pants to the side and you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he slowly rocked his hips against you, making you feel his clothed hardness in between your legs.He shuddered, the tip of his shaft rubbing against your soaked panties and you whimpered in response, your clit throbbing at the feeling. His hips snapped forward again, seeking friction before his lips finally left your neck and he looked down at you, stroking your hair gently.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Cedric whispered. “My pretty girl,” he purred, running his finger down your jaw.

“So have I,” you managed to get out, looking up at him with needy doe eyes. He looked back down at you, biting his lower lip. Resisting wasn't possible anymore.

“Are you ready little one?” he asked, running his nose along your temple and caressing your cheek. You nodded.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” you replied, gazing into his eyes.

Cedric hooked his fingers around your panties and pulled them down until they pooled around your ankles. You shook them off and he licked his lips, his eyes darkening with lust at the sight of your center of pleasure.

“God, so wet for me already,” he muttered, carefully grabbing you and laying your small body down on his bed. You watched as he stood next to the bed and stripped off his boxers, and your breath caught in your throat. His hard and twitching cock sprung out, precum leaking from his tip.

His body was perfect, lean and muscular, strong and sharp features etched onto his body that looked straight out of a painting. It was your turn to admire and take in the beauty. Your gaze wandered over his arms, his chest and down his waist, hips and strong legs; every detail and body part burning into your mind.

A blush spread on Cedric’s face when he felt your eyes on him and he then moved onto the bed, getting on top of you. He then intertwined his fingers with yours and raised them above your head, pinning your arms down. He kissed you, his tongue sliding into your mouth and his warm breath fanning on your skin.

“Are you ready love?”

His cock twitched again in anticipation of finally being inside of you.

You nodded, looking up at Cedric who was face to face above you and he positioned his hips so they were perfectly aligned with yours. His tip edged your entrance, making you squirm and causing Cedric to inhale a sharp breath.He began to work his way into you inch by inch before steadily pushing in until you were filled with his entire length.

Cedric groaned deeply in pleasure, the feeling of your warmth stretching around him sending waves of euphoria through his veins.

You whimpered, squeezing his hands tightly.

“Cedric.”

“I’m here. I’m here, it’s ok,” He whispered as he rested his forehead against yours gently. It hurt a bit for you and he knew it, so for your sake he let you adjust, not moving even slightly until you were ready.

“I know it hurts baby I’m sorry.”

His tender murmurs left his tongue as his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand comfortingly, making your heart swell with how soft he was being with you.

Thankfully after a moment, the pain and discomfort was washed away and was replaced with pleasure, causing you to gasp quietly. Cedric understood what this meant and he gave you a small nod so you would be prepared.

“I’ll be gentle.”

He finally began moving, his hips moving in slow, deliberate thrusts as his eyes locked onto yours. It felt so intimate, so raw, you had never been so exposed, emotionally and physically in your life. You moaned, your lips agape and your eyebrows knit together as he moved in and out of you with deep and steady strokes that made you entire body feel weak.

“My good little girl, taking me so well.” Cedric praised, his voice low and husky as his cock pumped inside of you rhythmically. You could only whimper in reply, your mind foggy with pleasure and overwhelming emotions.

He leaned his face down into your neck for a moment, pressing kisses along your flesh and nipping at your shoulder.

.“You feel so damn good sweetheart,” he grunted into your neck, his breathy moans filling the air as he grazed your earlobe with his lips.

“Only f-for you,” you gasped out, your hips starting to buck in time with his, signaling for him to go faster.

He groaned and he obliged, thrusting faster but still not being rough, making you cry out and beg for him to keep going.

He raised his face again, your noses inches apart so he could see your beautiful face, all flushed and contorted in pleasure, looking so innocent and adorable as he fucked you like you deserved.

The unbreaking eye contact, the way your bodies fit together, the sounds of his groans and ragged breaths, the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you was like nothing else you had ever experienced.

Every word he muttered in that raspy tone, every kiss, his breath hitting your skin, every thrust getting faster with each moment was sending you over the edge, making you a moaning and panting mess underneath him.

He closed his eyes ,dark eyebrows furrowed with concentration and pleasure as his rosy and full lips descended upon yours, taking you into a breathless kiss. Your tongues intertwined in a slow and sensual dance and your hot breath mingled, the filthy sounds coming from you both made Cedric’s head spin and he could feel himself getting closer and closer to his orgasm.

His breath hitched and he pulled away from the kiss, looking down at you once more though your eyes stayed closed, your mouth open and your chest rising and falling heavily as you gasped for breath.

“Look at me.” Cedric breathed. He wanted to see your eyes when you came undone together when you did the most intimate thing you had ever done in your relationship.

Your eyes fluttered open, your mutual gaze was deep. His eyes were intense, memorizing every second, every feeling, every sound in this moment.

He was hitting the right spot in you perfectly over and over again, causing a knot forming in your lower stomach rapidly as you were at your breaking point.

Your forehead touched and Cedrics warm breath feathered across your skin.

“Your so close, baby. Come on. Give it to me. Let go of everything and give it to me. Cum for me angel,” He urged, his voice barely above a whisper.

The knot in your stomach tightened and snapped, your walls spasming and clenching around him as you released all over his cock that was buried deep inside of you. You were seeing stars and your body was shaking from the intensity.

You cried his name out like a prayer, fueling his own orgasm. He had waited so long, but it was worth it. Seeing you like this, giving yourself to him completely, was pure ecstasy.

A long and ragged groan fell from his lips and his muscles tensed.

“Y/N.”

His hips stuttered and he joined you in climax, his cum shooting deep inside of you and dripping down your thighs. His length twitched, more of his warm seed spilling from his tip within you, emptying himself completely. His movements ceased to slow rolls of his hips before eventually stopping.

Soft pants and deep breaths invaded the space around you, not a word being spoken, just savoring the intimate connection between you both. You stayed like that for only a few seconds, catching your breath as you both came down from your highs. He then carefully pulled out, muttering a wandless spell to clean the mess you both made off of his sheets and your bodies.

He held your weak and shaking body to his chest, his eyes softening as he looked down at your exhausted face and you stared back up at him, taking in his red cheeks and heavy and pretty eyelashes.

“Are you alright?” he whispered tenderly as he brushed away a strand of hair from your cheek.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, feeling his strong arms around your small body.

“My sweet girl,” He murmured and kissed your brow, his eyes drinking in every detail of your face. “Did so good.”

“I love you,” you sighed, burying your face in his warm neck and snuggling close to him.

Cedric smiled softly and stroked your cheek.

“I love you too, y/n. My angel, my everything.”

He placed a kiss on the top of your head and pulled you closer. He had moved so that he was lying on his back in his bed and your limp frame was cradled in his arms. He just wanted to hold you close and keep you safe

“You are my everything. I'll always take care of you.”

You couldn’t even respond, you were worn out and your mind was hazy. You felt so loved and protected and your eyelids grew heavy, his soothing touch and sweet nothings in your ear making you feel sleepy.

Cedric chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with love and adoration as he looked down at you, his heart overflowing with emotion

“Sleep now, my love, you’ve earned it,” he whispered as he pulled the covers over you.

The room fell silent, the only sound being your steady breathing and the occasional rustling of the sheets as you adjusted yourselves. You played with his fingers until you fell asleep, a soft whine leaving your lips as you fell into the deepest sleep of your life next to your boyfriend.

Cedric's fingers traced gentle circles around your back, his thumb brushing against your skin as he held you close, watching your beautiful face as you slept. Your messy hair was spread out on his pillows and your soft body was pressed against his comfortably.

His hand never left your back as he listened to your breathing and quiet murmurs. He stayed awake for a few minutes longer, lost in thought, before he started drifting off into a peaceful sleep himself. His body was relaxed and content, falling asleep next to the woman he loved.

Your Pov:

The next morning my eyes fluttered open and was met with Cedric’s face right next to mine. I was wrapped up in his arms, his white sheets surrounding us both. His body was warm and firm as I was held against him.

The sun was rising, streams of golden light filtering through his window and onto him, the sun illuminating his face and making his chestnut-colored hair glow.

He looked so handsome. I mean, he was always handsome, but this… this was a sight to behold. It was like a painting, his white sheets covering half of his body, the sun highlighting his features in the most poetic way, making him look angelic. I carefully reached up to place my hand on his cheek, my thumb brushing gently over his cheekbone and then tracing the shape of his lips. He looked like those statues of David and Greek gods you'd see in museums. I admired his thick and dark eyebrows, the smoothness of his pale-white skin, his full lips, and his long eyelashes. A true sculpture of beauty.

Such a beautiful boy. I thought silently to myself.

My gaze finally drifted over to our clothes scattered on the floor. I blushed once I remembered the events of the previous night. He had taken my virginity. The memory of his breathy moans in my ear and the feeling of his lips trailing down my neck suddenly came flooding back. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts of our passionate encounter.

My mind wandered to the possibility of anyone finding out. Having sex at Hogwarts was most definitely against the rules, and that would surely strip Cedric of his role as Prefect. I didn’t want his life to be badly impacted because of me. What should I tell Ron, Hermione, and Harry? If I should tell them at all? My head was swarming with hundreds of thoughts. It didn’t feel real.

I glanced back at him, he was still sleeping, his bare chest rising up and then falling back down with every steady breath. My fingers skimmed along his defined jawline and I sighed softly as I gazed at him, bathed in the golden morning light. I contemplated whether or not I should get up or stay in bed with him until he woke up. What do you do in a situation like this?

I looked around his dorm and looked down at myself, realizing I was indeed, still unclothed.

Shit.

The soft sound of a body stirring and the rustling of sheets pulled me out of my own thoughts and my eyes met with the grey-blue eyes of Cedric.

He smiled at me, his dimples appearing, and his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Good morning my love,” he murmured, caressing my cheek tenderly before his hand slid up to run his fingers through my long and disheveled curls.

“Hey,” I replied quietly, a shy and soft smile playing on my lips.

“Did you sleep all right?” Cedric asked caringly, his body sitting up a bit in his bed and taking note of my appearance.

“I did,” I confirmed softly as I self-consciously pulled his sheet over my exposed chest. He noticed me do that but all he did was chuckle slightly to himself, being too polite to mention it. His hand dipped down to my neck, his thumb gingerly rubbing circles over the purple and pink marks on my flesh that he had created the night before. He then pulled me closer and kissed my cheek before resting his forehead against mine.

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered as he gazed deeply and lovingly into my eyes.

I looked down, breaking eye contact. “Thank you,” I mumbled. He raised an eyebrow and smiled again gently.

“Why so shy little one?” Cedric posed as he took my chin in his thumb and forefinger and tilted my head up to lock eyes with him again. I bit my lower lip slightly as my vision was filled with an ocean of green, blue, and grey, the colors mixing together in his irises.

“Just… I can't stop thinking about last night.”

His expression softened and he smiled warmly as he cupped my face with both of his large hands, his thumbs grazing over my cheekbones.

“There’s no need to be shy,” He assured in a quiet and gentle voice.

He was right. I knew he was. We had been dating for so long and at that point, I knew I should always feel comfortable with him. And I always had been, but this was different. We had done the most intimate thing any two people could ever do together hours before, and we were both naked in his bed at that very moment. I felt completely exposed, physically and emotionally.

“You were amazing.” Cedric’s lips lightly brushed against my ear as he spoke, his breath on my skin. “It was the most incredible moment of my entire life. You have no idea, Y/N. I died and went to heaven last night,” he whispered, his voice sending a shiver up my spine. He pulled away from my ear to look back at me again. My heart was pounding in my chest and I was blushing like an idiot.

“Really?” I asked breathlessly, beaming at his words.

He flashed me his signature Cedric Diggory grin and his lips pressed against mine tenderly.

“Really,” he affirmed, his eyes shining in adoration as the morning light shined down on us both from his window. I snaked my arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug. A wave of overwhelming love crashed over me and my worries (for the most part) vanished. Cedric smiled down at me and kissed the top of my head.

“I love you so much, my angel,” he muttered into my hair, inhaling my scent.

“I love you too Ced.”

A brief and comfortable silence hung between us as we embraced, bare chests pressed together and my face buried into his warm neck while his chin rested on my head. After a while, he moved away just to see my face again.

“Do you want to wear one of my shirts?” he suggested, hinting that we should get at least a bit clothed, though I could definitely tell that he didn't mind one bit at the state that we were in.

I nodded.

“Alright then.” Cedric threw the covers off of him and got off his bed, walking over to his dresser.

I looked away as his perfectly sculpted (and completely bare) body was revealed to me once more. All those years of playing Quidditch paid off because his figure was gorgeous, carved by Michelangelo himself.

What’s wrong with me? I saw him like this last night. Why can’t I see him naked again?

Once he had slid on a pair of boxers I glanced back at him a little bit, not as shy, but still a bit flustered. He quickly pulled a white tee shirt over his head and put on some plaid flannel pajama pants.

He swiped another tee shirt from his dresser and a pair of boxers. He then walked back over to me on his bed and handed them to me. My cheeks flushed a faint tinge of pink at the idea of not only wearing his shirt, but his boxers. I smiled at him and slipped them on briskly, trying to take the attention off the fact that I was nude.

“You look so cute in my clothes,” Cedric mused, a charming grin on his perfect lips as he stroked my hair and brushed some stray curls away from my face. “I don’t want you to have to wear the clothes that you wore before. They aren't very comfortable like these.”

“Thanks,” I chuckled softly as I sat up in his bed completely, wincing a bit at how sore my body was. It was to be expected after what we had done, especially since it was my first time. Cedric frowned slightly in worry and he massaged my shoulder.

“Are you alright my sweet girl?” He questioned. “Was I too rough?” Concern was etched on his features and laced in his tone.

I shook my head.

“I'm fine. You weren't too rough at all I swear,” I reassured.

The image of him taking me invaded my mind once more. He had definitely not been rough.

He looked at me as if he knew exactly what was going through my head but he made no comment. He was such a gentleman.

I looked up at him and didn’t know how to feel. We had waited so long to sleep together yet I felt a mix of giddiness, overwhelming love for the boy in front of me, and a twinge of shame. I wasn’t a virgin anymore. Was I dirty now? I pushed the idea out of my head. I was so thankful that it was Cedric who gave me that experience, I wouldn’t want it any other way, yet the thought still lingered in the very back of my consciousness.

“Is something wrong?” Cedric inquired with a tilt of his head as he sat back down next to me on his bed, his hand going to caress my head softly.

“Oh, no nothing’s wrong,” I promised as I looked at his floor where our clothes were strewn about. “I just don't know how to feel,” I said as I rested my chin on his shoulder. He gently grabbed my face to make me look at him.

“Do you regret it?” he asked seriously, looking deep into my eyes, searching for the answer.

I quickly shook my head.

“No, no, of course not, I don't regret it,” I replied slightly panicked at the thought that he would think I could ever regret what we shared. He looked a bit relieved at my answer and kissed me again. No matter how long we’ve been together, his kisses give me butterflies in my stomach every time without fail.

“I’m glad,” he murmured as he stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. I placed my hand over his and turned my face so my lips could meet his knuckles.

“I should probably get back to my common room before anyone notices that I’m gone,” I told him regretfully. I wanted nothing more than to stay with him in his bed for the entire day but I knew it wasn't possible. He sighed softly in disappointment but nodded, acknowledging that we were breaking multiple rules and couldn't get caught.

“I know.” He took his watch off of his nightstand and read the time. “6:05,” he informed me. “But I don’t want you to leave, especially since we’ve done something so special.” He rested his forehead on mine, our noses barely pressed together.

I agreed with him. It felt strange to do something so private and passionate together and then hours later have to get up and leave. This was a huge milestone in our relationship. We had wanted to wait, make it important, not just have lustful teenage sex.

“I don’t wanna leave either,” I whispered, placing both of my hands on his cheeks.

#cedric diggory smut #cedric diggory x reader #harry potter #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x you #cherrycolacigs #cedric x reader #hp smut #robert pattinson #virgin reader

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jellymish-art · 22 days

Text

IT IS HAPPENING LADS!! SAM VIMES COSPLAY!!

I've dreamed of doing this for years and now that I've finally gained the Secret Knowledge of Foam Armour, I can finally go for it!

Jokes aside, I asked a couple of cosplay pros for advice at the last con and they were all super nice & answered every single one of my questions, in detail!

So far the breastplate, backplate and badge are done and I'm super happy. Detailed process under the cut!

How it went:

First, the pattern! Shoutout to the guys at cosplay-atelier for the recommendation. They pointed me to kamuicosplay, because they sell downloadable patterns for all sorts of things, including armour. Which is how I got to this:

Downloaded two of their breastplate patterns, smooshed them together and altered them to fit my body and the look I wanted. I did all of that with thick paper. Then I took it apart again and traced the bits onto 5mm EVA foam that I ordered from a cosplay store.

Then I numbered and cut all the pieces and glued them together! I used hot glue, cause it's more accessible and less intimidating for me than other types of glue. It isn't as strong as other recommended glues, but works fine for me. (used many pointers from this tutorial.)

However, safety point: I've seen it recommended to wear breathing protection when heating up foam in any way whatsoever, and that includes hot glue, heat shaping and heat sealing. Use a respirator or other breathing protection that is made specifically for chemical fumes & work outside or in a well ventilated area (i.e. open ALL the windows)! Ask at your local hardware store if you're unsure.

PSA over. Now to the painting stage!

The scratches I made with my fingernails and the tip of a pair of scissors. XD Then I covered everything in 2 layers of black flexipaint (which is a water-based flexible paint/primer that works really well on foam). After that, I worked with regular artist's acrylic paint. Above you can see the first layer being applied with dry-brushing.

Then I went over it with a dark brown wash to make it look dirty (mix black & brown acrylic paint with water & apply liberally)

Then I went over it again with bronze by applying the paint with my fingers, wearing a plastic glove. (Same tutorial as before.) making sure I don't get any paint in the scratches. And then finally, another dark brown wash to make it all look nicely weathered. I did accidentally remove some paint by going over it too often with the wash, but it wasn't too hard to fix.

And this is the costume test, after adding velcro! It's really easy to put on and take off. I'm a bit worried about the velcro on the sides, but I can always add straps on the outside if it doesn't hold up.

Next was the badge:

I referenced a pin badge that came out as a collectible a few years ago (sadly out of stock), cause I love the design! Carved in the letters and lines by drawing on it with a ballpoint pen and applying a lot of pressure. Then painted it with the same process as the breastplate, just with copper instead of bronze.

And just for funsies: here's the back of the breastplate in all its glorious mess XD

On the right side you can see how I attached the badge: By cutting a slit through the breastplate and making a velcro attachment. That way I can remove the badge and add, say, a sprig of lilac, should my fancy take me there. Reason being that our biggest con is in May.

If you know, you know.

Annnnd here it is; the finished breastplate with badge:

I'm honestly having the time of my life. It's a super fun project and I am very excited to see how it turns out! I'm already working on the cape with a good friend of mine (I despise sewing, she loves it XD) and have materials on the way to make some bits of chainmail.

#Discworld #Sam Vimes #Samuel Vimes #Commander Vimes #cosplay #cosplay process #foam armour #fantasy armour #foam crafting #terry pratchett #city watch #night watch

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love4norris · 8 months

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THE SWEETEST TORTURE

episode one : | wishing

ೃ༄ pairing: lando norris x gbsf!y/n

ೃ༄ summary: where her best friend gets a girlfriend and she cant help but despise her and all of her perfectness

next part

ೃ༄ warnings: my first fic! sad ig?? yet to be proof read!

“They are so cute, aren’t they?” Your best friend shared his observation, the pair forced to witness as Lando pulled her in closer, any innocent air particles being crushed in between their bodies.

“So cute.” You response had been dunked into a tub of jealously before making it past your lips, the now usual emotion leaving a burning feeling behind in your throat.

“I need a relationship like them.” Max continued the unwanted conversation, his words plunging the knife deeper into your heart. His obliviousness was something you used to enjoy but all you wanted to do at this point was to complain to someone, for someone to validate your feelings on how this girl who was made of angel dust was making you feel. It felt as though they were out to get you with the affection they had decided to share with one another this night, their relationship no longer being one with privacy, not that they seemed as though they cared.

Your eyes stayed on them, a pool of emotion filling up to your irises, mouth slightly agape as words started to push past the barrier you had been spending months building up, every slight tinge of jealously you felt adding yet another brick.

“What do you actually think of her?” The words had ultimately made their way into the world and yet had found a polite way to phrase themselves.

“They are about to move in together.” His response brushed passed your question without a care in the world, instead opting to open up a whole different conversation.

“Really?” The regret that you had even bothered to ask began to forcefully join your bloodstream, making you feel lightheaded at the thought you could be caught out.

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” Max asked, a minuscule amount of surprise briefly painting his inquiry.

“I guess he’s been super busy.” The only reaction you could muster up the energy for was walking away, a heaviness weighing onto your hand as embarrassment gripped onto it just to make sure it could follow you around the busy room. A celebration for the finishing the F1 season on a good note having no lack of people.

Multiple shots had been picked up and thrown down your throat by the time they could walk over, her faultless, straight teeth on full show.

“Y/n! How has your night been so far, my friend?” They were the very first words the two of you had spoke since two days ago. A silence fell over you, wrapping you in a warm yet not comforting hug. His request for the idea was pushed further with an eyebrow raise.

“Great! So much fun.” You deceived the pair by simply twisting every sensation your brain had created into a more favourable one.

“Wow, I love your dress.” Lacy pointed out, her free hand flowing graciously through the air so it could land near your dress, her other arm being wrapped around Lando’s torso.

“Thank you, I could say the same about yours.” The drinks began to kick in but still had a hesitance towards the chaos they could insinuate.

“Congratulations on moving in together by the way! Really amazing and a very important part to your relationship!” Your last words fell from your lips in a soft, slurred muse, a hint of melancholy filling your tone. Lando’s eyes tore away from your figure, your deepening gaze that had been shared between him and his girlfriend getting too much for him.

“I didn’t know you knew!” Lacy remarked with a tight lipped smile, the sadness not falling lost on her ears.

“Have you guys found an apartment yet? I remember how hard it was to find the perfect place in Monaco.” Your eyes moved away from Lando’s instead finding a home in his girlfriends.

“I know right! It’s impossible but we are trying, we are thinking about me just moving in with you guys for a little bit if you don’t mind, of course?” The mirth that had joined her words was painted across her smooth skin.

It shocked you, the fact that Lando and her had even discussed this. Her moving into your apartment, her infiltrating the one place you felt safe. He knew how you felt about things like that, you had spend countless night ranting to him about it and him, you.

Words began to claw their way up your throat, the scratch marks they were leaving allowing the vodka to seep into your skin. A barrel off then pushed against your lips, your stomach turning inwards in a gagging movement.

“Excuse me, sorry.” You called behind your retreating figure, the hand that once was heavy with embarrassment now freed so it could push open the venues side door.

The snow was yet to fall over England but you could feel the cold, bitter air latch onto your skin. A light fog of winters breath coated the darkened. It’s rightful shade of blue being stripped too the point where it left a canvas of black in its place. Your chin was planted upwards staring up towards the melancholy heavens through the slits of your eyelids you had left open, the footsteps you were making leaving nothing but destruction on the brittle and cold soil.

Her eyes were as white as daisies, yours red and brushed on with a old and used up paint brush, the streak marks it had made being as bold as the veins that sat underneath your skin.

You could feel her compliments like bullets on skin, her unrivalled beauty causing so many problems in your once peaceful life. For you watch as they progress through the relationship leaving a faulty in the wake.

She had managed to get the one thing you ever wanted in life within the span of couple days and because of that, it felt as though her actions were filled with a poison. The kind of poison that was jealously.

“I thought you would be out here.” His response rolled from his lips as if it were a part of the trickling wind passing by. The air smelled of his cologne, the sharp scent being plastered into your memory.

“What was the reason?” It was startling the way the words managed to be comprehensible, the sudden breath you had let out previously obviously being their way of escape.

“Pardon?” His question wasn’t because he didn’t hear rather that he couldn’t make sense of it.

“What was the reason you couldn’t tell me about you guys moving in together. I don’t think I’ve given you any. Have I?” They dipped from your parted lips with hesitance, the response you were wishing to hear not being one you were ready for.

“You are in love with me. I couldn’t do that to you.” His hands were warming in his coat pockets, his carelessness with the sentence being shameful.

Perhaps it was the way your head instantaneously snapped in his direction or how the words you were yet to say after so long leaked into your eyes that gave him his answer. But you somehow know he had gotten answer to the appalling statement.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You whisper with a sharp intake of breath, although the cool oxygen never came close to your lungs, your throat putting up a defence mechanism.

He paused his actions, his eyes slowly crawling back to yours before returning to cracked pavement. The winters cruel elements didn’t help with this situation and nor did your decision to not being a coat out with you.

“You don’t tell me anything, you ignore my texts for days straight, you stand me up on a weekly basis and then you have the nerve to accuse me of such a thing.” Your voice broke beneath the strength and heaviness with your words, landing in a crumpled up pile beneath your feet.

“I have a girlfriend now, I can’t answer every call and text you send me. I don’t have time for movie nights and all of those traditions we started when we were twelve. Okay? We are not kids anymore y/n and some of us have full time jobs and busy lives. And I am trying, I am trying to keep our friendship going so you can’t knock me down when I am trying my hardest.” He defended himself in a spiral of hurtful words, making a slight mockery of you inability to have a good and stable social life.

“I don’t expect you to. I expect a text to say you aren’t coming to dinner so I am not sat alone in a posh restaurant waiting and waiting. That is not trying your best Lando, that is barely the bare minimum.”

The world fell quiet again, immersing you in a void of silence that was so strong it began to shake your body. With Lando standing next you, his broad figure looking so lost amongst the mixture of trees going on behind him. The area that once seemed so large had shrunk remarkably in size, leaving no gap for you to escape from this nightmare.

“What dinner?” He questioned, the inquiry bringing him closer towards you so he could fully assess your reaction to his words.

A scoff fell past your lips, the wind quick to snatch it from in front of you and run away with it.

“Don’t do that, don’t act all innocent. I can’t do this with you tonight.” You shook your head, in denial about this whole situation. It felt as though you were stranded at sea, in a abyss of uncertainty whether you would live or do. Exhaling a deep breath that froze before you, the strength to begin once again evaporated. “I can’t do this today.”

You repeated in a hardly audible whisper, using it as an excuse to excuse yourself yet again. Lando was quick to react to your movements, his fingertips offering you the warmth you had been craving. The world stopped then and there, you awaiting a reasonable response, a reasonable argument to your previous statements but nothing appeared.

His knuckles wrapped so tightly it caused a bleed of a ghastly white to flush across them. Lando’s lip parted, preparing themselves to say something that would stop you from leaving him but the only thing that slipped past them was a loud sigh.

“I’m going to go now.” You stated, brushing your fingertips gently across his to get them to unravel from your bare arms. The escape you had been so gracefully offered was not one you would ever deny again.

#lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris angst #ln4 #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #mclaren #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #formual one #f1 imagines

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cupid-styles · 8 months

Text

aren't you hungry?

the vampy h blurb!!!!! yay!

in which y/n's never been chosen as a feeder before, but harry changes that and things get... messy.

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: vampire h, blood, smut (dirty talk, impact play, thigh riding, slight pain kink)

masterlist | talk to me

fall/halloween blurb masterlist

. . .

"One of our members has requested your presence."

Y/N's eyes widen slightly at the well-dressed man standing in front of her. He'd tapped her shoulder, pulling her from giggling with her friends on a break from the dance floor. She'd expected some guy trying to buy her and her friends drinks, or maybe a drunk girl who lost her own friends — truth is, she'd never expected to see one of them behind her.

She's only visited this club a couple of times and she wasn't chosen the first time. It was fine with her — she figured she wasn't their taste and she was alright with that knowledge, especially since the kid in her class who mentioned this mysterious spot told her to keep her expectations low. He'd mentioned that he'd only seen a few people get picked before, regardless of how pretty or handsome someone was.

She and her friends kept coming on occasion, though, mainly when they'd had busy weeks and needed somewhere fun to unwind. It was a little far from the college town they lived in, a 30 minute drive or so, and it was less likely to see anyone they knew from school. For that reason, Y/N felt more comfortable letting loose and taking on a persona she normally didn't have.

She felt sexier here. Hotter. More confident.

And there's a twinge of anxiety plucking at her stomach when she realizes that she has been chosen. Her friends are equally as surprised but with raised eyebrows that say you better tell us everything, they encourage her to follow the man out of the main area and up to the private section upstairs.

He doesn't say anything else — no other details are revealed about who wants to feed on her, instead just guiding her away from the crowded, sweaty room. They step into an elevator and she watches as he presses the only button on the panel, folding his hands neatly in front of him. When they arrive, she follows him down a hallway and finally, stops in front of a closed door. He knocks once and walks away.

With a fluttering heart and sweaty hands, Y/N swallows harshly as the door swings open, revealing a tall man with long, curly brown hair. He looks only a few years older than she is, though she knows the age difference likely teeters on one hundred.

"Hello," he greets curtly, stepping aside to let her in, "How are you?"

She mumbles out a "good" as she nervously brushes past him. She's not sure what she was expected, but it looks like any old hotel room, just a lot darker — there are blackout curtains and plushy bedding in a deep red hue folded onto a large mattress. There isn't a television or any mirrors (she wonders if that old myth about vampires is true, then), and it doesn't look like the man who's requested her has spent any time at all here. Everything looks completely pristine.

She hears the door click shut behind her and she turns around to take him in. He's beautiful, but she's heard that most of them are. His face is angular, his stature intimidating, but she supposes that's not out of the ordinary for his kind. It's the first time she's ever been alone with a vampire.

"I take it you know why you were asked up here."

She takes a shallow breath, suddenly self-conscious of her rapid heartbeat, knowing that he can probably hear it from a foot away.

She licks her dry lips and nods, "I think so."

He nods, thumbing at the top buttons on his silky shirt, "Can I answer any questions for you?"

She shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably. "You're... you want to drink my blood, right?"

"Yes," he says with a slight smirk, "Anything else?"

"Why me?"

He furrows his eyebrows, a look of confusion painting his face as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"I'm not sure I understand. You know what this club is for, I'd assume."

"I mean, kind of, I just heard about it in one of my classes," she replies with a shrug, "I've just been here a few times and was never chosen before and I was wondering... like, why tonight, I guess. I figured I wouldn't be picked after that first time."

He nods slowly. "Can I ask for your name?"

"Y/N."

"Y/N, I don't come here often. I don't fancy the thought of feeding on desperate humans in a sweaty club, especially if they're poisoning their bodies with alcohol and drugs and whatever else. And on the nights I do come, maybe once or twice a year, I've never asked for anyone."

She swallows at that, her pulse quickening as he leans back on his elbows, the expanse of his chest shimmering through the soft fabric of his shirt.

"But the second you arrived tonight... I could hear your heartbeat and smell how sweet your blood is," he murmurs, pinching his bottom lip between his fingertips, "I couldn't fathom the idea of letting you go without getting a taste."

Her heart is beating even faster in her chest now. Everything about this situation should be triggering her fight-or-flight response, but instead, she's entranced. She doesn't know if it's because he has some strange vampire powers over her and yet, even if that's the reason, she can't find it in her to care.

"I apologize if that makes you uncomfortable. I hope you know you're not expected to do anything — to give me anything — if you don't want to."

She shakes her head quickly, the sudden thought of not allowing him to pierce her skin her worst nightmare. "No, I... I just don't understand what's so special about me, I guess."

He shrugs. The quick turn to nonchalantness bothers her.

"It may not be anything that you do or don't do. A lot of it comes down to biology. But if I'm being completely honest... I spent the first hour or so watching you downstairs with your friends," he admits, making her face warm, "You're kind, very considerate and sweet. Gorgeous, of course. It just made me want to know more."

"And you're not just saying that to drink my blood?"

He chuckles. "No, Y/N. I'm not just saying that."

"What's your name, then?" She asks, sitting down next to him and crossing her legs, "Since you know all this stuff about me."

He resists the urge to roll his eyes and laughs lightly. "Harry."

"Harry," she repeats, allowing the syllables to roll off her tongue. She can feel him watching her, his neck turned slightly to keep his gaze on her side profile. "And how long have you been a vampire?"

He contemplates her question, lulling his head to the side as he does some mental math. It's been awhile since anyone asked him any personal questions, especially because the people he does hang out with on occasion have been around just as long.

"I think I turned sometime in the early 1900s, though I'm not entirely sure. The first few years are a bit of a blur."

Her heart speeds again, and his smiles to himself when he hears the swift pitter patter pick up.

"How do you normally feed? Since you said you don't come here often."

"Vampires have different ways of eating, similar to how humans do," he replies easily, flexing his ring-clad hands out in front of him, "I tend to favor blood banks, but other vampires will feed from animals. And some just prefer this, or having consistent feeders in their rotation."

She nods her head and purses her lips before turning to him, a defiant look on her face.

"Okay, then. How do you go about feeding from me?"

Harry quirks an eyebrow, surprised at the sudden change of subject. She's more... flighty than he anticipated, but he likes that about her. He thinks.

"Generally... I can feed from anywhere, but the neck is one of the more... sensitive spots that humans enjoy," he murmurs, eyes flicking to the soft skin covering her throat, "Um, it'll hurt at first, when I puncture. But it's quickly replaced with a euphoric sensation. I should warn you, some humans can... orgasm while they're being fed from."

Her eyes widen, "Really? Has that ever happened with people you've bitten?"

"Yes," he nods, quickly blinking away images of her desperately rutting against his thigh as he sucks at her neck. "It depends on the person. It has nothing to do with me, but again, it's a very pleasurable feeling. That's why humans enjoy doing it."

She nods her head and swallows, trying her best to seem cavalier about the situation. In reality, she very much wasn't — it was all very out-of-character for her, but there was still something pulling her in and drawing her to Harry. Thinking about how she was moments away from offering her neck to him and potentially orgasming in front of him was... overwhelming and nerve-wracking, but... what? Intriguing? She wonders if this is scratching some sort of itch she has for a one night stand. She knows Harry is an immortal supernatural creature, but she's only human.

His deep voice breaks her out of her thinking.

"If that changes things for you, please tell me. I won't be upset."

"No. I want to do this," she suddenly decides, "Aren't you hungry?"

If she thinks she's attempting to be flippant, Harry takes the cake time and time again. He shrugs his shoulders and presses his lips together in a thin line.

"A little, but I can go without."

A stroke of bravery strums through her body. Harry had wanted her up here. He's the one that made this happen. He requested her.

She understands he's probably fibbing for her sake, and she can appreciate that. But if this was going to happen, he needed to be clear.

Y/N straightens her posture and flips her hair to the side, her neck bare from any jewelry or marks. He notices a few beauty marks smattered along her jaw and chest — he thinks that if he was breathing, the oxygen would've hitched in his throat.

"Do you need me?" she asks, trying to ignore the twinge of embarrassment she felt at attempting to seduce a vampire, "You had him bring me up here. You watched me. Do you need me?"

If he's stunned, he maintains his composure well. Instead, he clears his throat, running his tongue over his teeth, feeling where his fangs threaten to jut from his gums.

"It's a yes or no, Harry."

His resolve is quickly crumbling and it warms Y/N's body to know that she finally has the upper-hand. He thinks for a moment, but the selfish, primal side of him that's desperately craving the taste of her blood is stronger than the sensible part he typically relies on.

"Yes." he finally answers, breathing out harshly through his nose, "Yes, I need to taste you."

"Do it, then."

When he receives her consent, everything moves lightning fast, making her head spin. Before she even realizes that he's touching her, she's being pulled into his lap, his strong arms wrapping her thighs around his waist. She gasps and he shushes her, the small expression of dominance making her core flutter.

"You're going to get a little floaty," Harry advises softly, ducking his nose into the crook of her neck. He inhales, using his last few moments of consciousness to counsel her through it. It makes her lips part but he squeezes her hip, bringing her back. "It'll be hard for you to know if it's too much or you need me to stop, and I promise to show as much self-control as I can."

"O-okay," she mumbles, tilting her head back slightly. He scowls into her neck, his other hand forming a tight fist in his lap.

"If you need me to stop, squeeze me or hit me or do something. Got it?"

She nods, already feeling entirely overwhelmed by his entire being. It's all uphill, she realizes when he noses deeper into her skin, and before she has the chance to process it's happening, he does it — two sharp punctures into her throat, a sting of pain making her gasp followed by the most intense, full-body ecstasy she's ever felt.

She's immediately floating on clouds of pleasure, whimpers falling from her lips as he sucks at her messily. Her eyes are shut but if they weren't, she doesn't even think she'd be disgusted by her blood trailing down his chin. Everything is lovely, shades of reds and pinks stroking her vision as she squirms in his arms, holding him impossibly closer as he drinks and drinks and drinks.

It all ends too quickly, she feels, but the cloudy sensation prevents her from realizing he'd been drinking from her far longer than he would've liked. When he pops off, licking at the wound to quickly repair it, she's still drifting with hazy eyes, helplessly rubbing her core against his thigh.

"Are y'alright?" he slurs, using the silky sleeve of his blouse to clean off his mouth. She bats her eyes open and nods slowly, unaware of the arousal steadily leaking from her. He can smell it, and it makes him swallow harshly.

"Why'd you stop?" she asks.

"Don't wanna hurt you, angel."

She pouts, wiggling in his lap. "I didn't cum. I would've if you kept going."

He's heard of this before — he knows humans can feel painfully horny after getting bitten, too, but it's never actually happened to him. When he's heard his mates talking about how they just had to get their feeder off after sucking at their necks, he always assumed it was some stupid way to brag about getting laid.

But now he believes them, because Y/N looks desperate with her moony eyes and sodden panties. He can feel her warmth through them and he grits his teeth, wanting nothing more than to keep biting at her skin, even if he knows he can't.

She doesn't say another word before she's grinding her hips against his, riding the thick of his thigh and pressing her clit into it. She gasps from the friction and it makes him feel insane.

"You're rutting against me like you're a puppy in heat," he mutters, steadying her hips with his hands, "Do you really need to cum that bad?"

She nods quickly, moaning when he stops her from moving. "Please. Feels so good, I-I need it."

"Can fuckin' smell you dripping down your thighs," he says, moving her dress up her legs and plucking the width of her panties to the side to reveal her swollen pussy. He groans at the sight, using his thumb to teasingly stroke her sensitive skin. "Go on, then. Make yourself cum. Show me."

It's somewhat humiliating to have him watch her get herself off, but she's not in a mindset where embarrassment exists, so she does as he says. The slick leaking from her pussy makes a mess on his trousers but he doesn't care. How could he, when he gets to watch this beautiful girl chase an orgasm?

"There you go," Harry encourages, separating her pussy lips to expose her clit. He thumbs at it, eliciting a load moan to fall from her mouth. "Did I find your sweet little button, baby? Is this what you need to cum?"

"Yes!" she exclaims, panting desperately. The coil in her tummy is getting tighter, threatening to explode as he presses small circles into the swollen bundle of nerves. It's so good — she's never gotten off so quickly before, her eyes misting at the overwhelming bouts of pleasure funneling through her bloodstream.

"Show me how pretty you look when you cum," he demands, winding his other hand behind their bodies. He grabs at her ass, giving one cheek a full squeeze before smacking it harshly, the slapping sound echoing through the room. She moans loudly and he smirks, doing it again. "Does my little slut have a pain kink?"

She nods helplessly, broken whimpers falling from her lips. She can barely even speak from the all-encompassing bliss.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Harry mutters, switching to her other ass cheek to slap that one, "Getting off on some stranger biting at your neck, sucking your blood. Such a naughty little puppy, hm?"

She squeezes her eyes closed and he growls, shaking his head as he lifts his hand, smacking her cheek and roughly grabbing her cheeks, smushing them together. "Eyes on me, slut. Keep them open while you cum."

It's the final bit of roughness that does her in; her pussy fluttering and contracting around gushes of arousal that seep from her hole and onto the fabric of his pants. He groans out as he watches her, never ceasing the movements on her clit. She's drooling down her chin when her orgasm finally subsides and he smiles, patting her cheek lightly.

"I'm gonna keep you, puppy," he murmurs, nosing at her jaw before pressing a soft kiss to the skin. She nods, panting loudly. "Yeah. You're mine now."

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