#lance makes me crack up

[bellamyroselia]

I was looking through various trainers PWT-teams, and made an interesting discovery - Crispin shares half of his team with Flannery for some reason and Drayton is somehow even worse in this regard, sharing 2/3 of his team with Lance.

Sure, they have different movesets and items, the battles are in a completely different format, it likely means nothing at the end, but it still stuck into my mind. Like let's imagine for a moment that it does mean something - with Drayton, one could just chug it into him being lazy and copying most of his team from someone he not only idolizes, but has proven that said team works. It could also possibly imply that his Archaludon and Sceptile were some of his first Pokemon, but that's a topic for another time. Crispin honestly has no excuse for copying Flannery though

[mvltiversed]

@florietiae said: 📸 / john @ sara tho! ||3-5 pictures my muse has taken of yours.

[pucksandpower]

okay but all i can think of is grid kids: where y/n and sebastians’ daughter gets her period while being with the guys and they freak out while she is completely calm😭😭😭

Grid Kids: It’s Just a Little Blood

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids have always been their little sister’s role models and teachers but it turns out that they have some things left to learn themselves

Series Masterlist

“She’s bleeding out!”

Lando’s panicked face fills your screen as the FaceTime call connects.

You immediately sit upright, heart racing. “What? Where? What happened?”

“We found her in the bathroom,” Charles adds, holding up a suspicious-looking red spot on the bathroom rug.

George, on the brink of hyperventilation, rushes in, “We need to call an ambulance! It’s a lot of blood. So much blood.”

Max is basically begging, “Just tell us what to do.”

From the background, you hear your daughter’s exasperated voice, “Guys! It’s just my period! Calm down!”

There’s a collective pause. Mick, with wide eyes, slowly asks, “Period? As in ... the monthly thing?”

Your daughter rolls her eyes but is clearly amused, “Yes. Welcome to female biology.”

You laugh, trying to calm the situation. “Okay, first of all, she’s not bleeding out. It’s totally natural. Didn’t any of you take a basic health class?”

Lance raises an awkward hand, “I might’ve skipped that day ... or week.”

Sebastian is trying not to laugh next to you, “Did any of you ever have a girlfriend? Or a sister?”

Lando sheepishly responds, “It just ... never came up in conversation, I guess?”

Your daughter holds a pad up like it’s a game show prize, “Alright, class is in session. First lesson: how to attach this to underwear.“

The line goes silent for a second before George finally speaks up, “You know, I have a newfound appreciation for what women go through.”

You giggle, “As you should. Time for lesson one of many. Pay attention, boys.”

***

The phone buzzes with an incoming call, Lando picking it up instantly. “Hey, kiddo! What’s up?”

“Can you come pick me up?” Her voice, cracking with frustration as she tries to keep her tears at bay, comes through the phone. “I’m in a lot of pain but the physical education teacher won’t let me sit out despite my cramps being really bad.”

George, overhearing the conversation, frowns. “Seriously? She can’t be that heartless.”

Max grabs the phone, his protective instincts kicking in. “We’re on our way. Just hang tight.”

Within minutes, the grid kids arrive at the school, walking determinedly towards the gym. As they enter, they spot the physical education teacher, a stern woman with a whistle around her neck.

“Can we help you?” She asks, eyeing them suspiciously.

“We’re here to pick up our sister,” Charles says, stepping forward. “We heard she’s not feeling well.”

The teacher scoffs. “She’s been trying to get out of class because of some little cramps. It’s just an excuse for her to be lazy.”

Mick tries to keep his cool, “Cramps can be debilitating. It’s not just an excuse like you claim. It’s a real physical pain.”

Lance jumps in, “You wouldn’t make someone with a sprained ankle run, would you? It’s the same thing. Why make her suffer?”

The teacher is about to argue but Lando interjects before she has a chance, “Look, we get that you have a job to do but she’s genuinely in pain. All we ask is for a little compassion and understanding.”

“And maybe,” George adds, “in the future, a crash course on menstrual health and how not everyone has the same experience might be beneficial.”

The teacher nods, sufficiently cowed. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

“Thank you,” Max says and the group makes their way to where their sister is curled up in a corner. As she stands up, looking a little pale but relieved to see them, they envelop her in a group hug.

“Feeling okay, kiddo?” George asks with concern, carefully brushing a stray hair from her face.

She offers a weak smile, “Better now that you guys are here.”

Lance winks, “How about we go get some milkshakes? Ice cream cures everything.”

She chuckles, “I could go for that.”

***

The media room is buzzing, cameras being set up and reporters getting ready to fire questions. The grid kids are seated next to each other, patiently listening to their weekly dose of Maxplaining while waiting for the interview to start.

A reporter from a tabloid magazine, aiming for a provocative soundbite, smirks and directs a question at Charles, “Rough race today? Are you on your time of the month or something?”

The room goes silent for a moment, a few gasps and whispers are heard. Charles looks taken aback, his cheeks reddening slightly, but before he can answer, Max steps in, voice firm.

“That’s really inappropriate. Jokes like that are not only disrespectful to the drivers sitting up here but also to female racers and women in general.”

Lando nods, “Our little sister wants to be in Formula 1 one day and she should never have to face comments from people who think that they can demean her because of her gender.”

George throws his hands up, “Come on, it’s 2034 for crying out loud! You should know better than this. We should all do better than this. ”

The reporter attempts to defend his statement, “It was just a joke. No need to get so sensitive.”

Lance counters, “We’re not being sensitive. We just want you to show some basic respect. A natural process shouldn’t be turned into a sexist joke because you have nothing of substance to ask. Women deserve to be treated with dignity.”

The reporter mumbles an apology, clearly caught off guard by the unified response.

Charles finds his voice and glares at the reporter, “Let’s keep the questions related to racing.”

“And,” Mick looks towards a group of FIA officials sitting off to the side, “Someone better make sure to take away his media pass.”

***

After the press conference, back in the drivers’ lounge, your daughter squeezes between the grid kids on the oversized couch and looks up at them with earnest eyes. “Thank you for standing up for girls like me today.”

Max ruffles her hair gently, “We’ve always got your back, kiddo.”

George nods, “We haven’t always been perfect but we’re trying to learn and grow.”

Lando adds, “And we hope, by the time you get here, motorsport will be a much better place for you and all other women aspiring to be drivers.”

Charles bends down to her level, “We want you to race in an environment where you’re only judged by your talent and not anything else.”

“You’ve got the same passion and determination any of us ever had,” Mick chimes in. “Don’t let anyone ever dim that light.”

“We’ll be cheering the loudest when you make it to F1. No one should underestimate you,” Lance adds with a wink.

She beams, wrapping her arms around them in a tight group hug. “Thanks, brothers.”

[nor-4]

Formula 1 Incorrect Quotes with reader Two

F1IQ - Part One

Y/n: Bitch why don't you shut the fuck up before i slit your throat and watch the honor roll out?

Max: Are you threatening me??

Y/n: No, I'm hitting on you, flash me a titty bitch.

Lewis: Yeah uh, there's something I've been wanting to say lately.

Y/n: Oh what's that?

Lewis: The N-Word

Y/n looking at toto: Look at your dad. Such a dork, keeping bees.

Y/n: I mean atleast it's interesting though. At least like, i wish my dad kept bees.

Y/n: I mean it's kind of cute. Like, your dad keeps bees.

Y/n: How old is your dad? He's obviously beekeeping age. I dont know. I think It's kind of sweet.

Y/n: George, i wanna fuck your dad.

George: Oh really?

Yuki: Hey can i sit with you?

Y/n: Why

Yuki looking at stroll and ocon: The kids at the other table keep throwing ketchup packets at me.

Y/n: You're not covered in ketchup, though

Yuki: They don't know you have to open it first

Y/n: Damn. We need remedial bullying class too.

Yuki: So how do you like your remedial english?

Y/n: I guess it's whatever. My mom was really pissed, though.

Yuki: Yeah? What about your dad?

Y/n: My dad killed himself.

Charles: I'm finally seeing someone good for me.

Alex: Omg who is it?

Charles: A therapist

Y/n: max is pissing me off *20 minutes ago*

Y/n: nvm just got dicked down

George: Girl what..

Fernando: Every time i talk to you i feel confused.

Fernando: I've never met anyone that speaks like you do

Y/n: Stop lovebombing me

Fernando: what? It's not a compliment

Fernando: You scare me

Y/n: What are you hiding from me?

Zhou: Nothing..

Y/n: Zhou Guanyu.

Zhou pulls out a cat: The cat distribution system chose me okay

Y/n at drive to survive: If he cheats on you, put hair remover in his shampoo, you wanna act like Andrew tate, u gon look like him too.

Lewis wearing a beanie: I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS FOREVER

Toto: That's your fault. Being too quick signing your seat with ferrari

Oscar: Are you high?

Lando: Am i what?

Oscar: High

Lando: Hello

Christian: So what could a Mercedes principal possibly have then?

Y/n: I just feel like he'd be into satan-worship, or at the very least have a sex diary.

Christian: A toto wolff sex diary would be horrifying. He's like our rival.

Y/n: We say that about Stephen king books, we still read those.

Daniel: "Dear diary, hot candle wax hurts so good"

Christian: No it'd probably be like a thesaurus of words for "Good"

Daniel: Yeah he probably sexts with perfect grammar.

Y/n: "My wife showed an exquisite exhibition of lust for me."

Toto: Let me try something different here. Do you guys have thoughts and feelings for one another?

Y/n: Uhh i think George's kinda spoiled

George: And i feel like y/n's a bitch

Y/n: What're you gay?

Alex: What.. How did you know? I've never told anyone that.

Y/n: Dude look at your hair dye, you're either gay or color blind.

Lance: bro stop chanting in dead language's your scaring the hoes

Y/n: Bitch you is so lonely I'm summoning the hoes

Sebastian: You used to be shy, now you're a whore

Y/n: There's a thing called character development

Oscar: Reminder that I'm very sweet and endearing so be nice to me

Carlos: or what

Oscar: or I'll punch your lights out

Hey yall this is a bit short cause I'm finna make a random crack twitter posts n I'll post it in the most random day. I love yall baby💋

[gimmethatagustd]

definitely today, satan | knj

After having a strange dream about your hot neighbor, you realize it might be time to finally make your move. Dreams are a sign from the universe, right?

○ Pairing: DILF/Neighbor!Namjoon x f!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Neighbors to lovers, smut, crack

○ 11 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Neighbor)

○ Word Count: 1,076

○ Warnings: It's corny and horribly written and I don't know what the fuck came over me when I wrote any of these fics, cunnilingus (Namjoon eating it from behind while MC wears a skirt, god bless), nipple play, vaginal fingering, I have a really bad sense humor, reference to NSYNC fanfic

○ Notes: This fic was written for @mapleleaf000 . It's actually part 3 of what has turned into a mini-series about the "Demon DMV" LOL. The links for the other parts are below. For those of you who haven't read "Not Today, Satan," you don't have to read parts 1 and 2 to understand this fic, but I highly recommend it, or else this won't be as funny. Also, yes, there is NSYNC fic on AO3. In case you were curious. 💀

○ Post Date: March 12, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? Dangerous - TEN

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

Honestly, sometimes your ability to pull hot men shocks you. It doesn’t only happen at night when you’re weirdly dreaming about your hot, daddy-dom neighbor being Satan, tempting you with his sexy biceps and boobs. You’re actually here, in his apartment, sitting on said hot, daddy-dom neighbor’s thick thighs as he sucks on your throat and squeezes your tits. 

Namjoon is even hotter in real life than he was as Satan in your dreams, though you can’t help but think about your dream while he’s pulling off your shirt to trail kisses across your collarbones and reaching around you to unclasp your bra. 

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” Namjoon moans against your chest as he drags his tongue across one of your nipples, flicking it repeatedly until it’s hard and soaked with his spit. His tongue isn’t pointy and forked like it had been in your dream, but that’s fine!

“Not as sexy as you,” you insist with your fingers threaded through his hair. 

Namjoon’s hair is short and bleached with highlights, and you think he’s probably the only person in the twenty-first century who can pull off bleached tips without looking like Lance from NSYNC. 

Is there any NSYNC fanfiction on AO3? If there is, it’s probably Lance/Justin. 

Not to kink-shame anyone, but ew. 

You’re pulled from your distracting thoughts by Namjoon grabbing your ass and helping you grind against the bulge in his pants. He’s still wearing his slacks, having just come home from work. You were supposed to go on a dinner date since his daughter is staying with her mother over the weekend. 

As a respectful father (hot), Namjoon has avoided mixing his dating life with his family life. It’s what’s best for now since the two of you are still getting to know each other. Only recently did your dreams of Purgatory and Hell push you to ask Namjoon out. It makes sense that he wants to take things slow with introducing you into his daughter’s life. 

You’re definitely not taking things slow in other areas of your dating life, though. 

“Is it weird if I say that I dreamt about this?” you ask when Namjoon hooks his arms around your thighs and carries you out of the living room. His strength is impressive, even if his bedroom isn’t far from where you’d been. 

“Not at all. I’ve dreamt about you, too.” 

Namjoon seems shy when he confesses, but you suppose it actually is kind of weird, and the two of you are probably just weird together. Which is nice. Sexy or not, you wouldn’t be able to vibe with Namjoon if he couldn’t keep up with your weirdness. 

“Oh, did you?” you purr as Namjoon reaches under your miniskirt to pull your thong down your legs. 

“Mhm,” he hums against your neck when he hovers over you, slotting himself between your legs so he can grind his thigh against your exposed pussy. 

One of the buttons on his white work shirt catches on your nipple. The rough drag makes your body shiver with goosebumps. When you try to unbutton his shirt, he grabs your hand and pins it to the bed above your head. 

“Keep it on,” Namjoon whispers in your ear. 

His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is deep and scratchy. If you close your eyes, you can almost imagine something darker in his tone, something demonic. It’s so hot you feel your pussy throb and slick up even more. When Namjoon pulls away, there’s a dark spot on his pants from how wet you are. 

“Can I eat you out?” Namjoon’s request is more like a plea, a hopeful lilt to his voice when he speaks. He runs his palms up your thighs to push your miniskirt further up your waist to expose more of your body.

“You don’t even have to ask a question like that.” 

“From behind?” 

“Fuck, yeah, oh my god.” You throw your head back with a dramatic groan before rolling onto your stomach and transitioning to resting on your forearms and knees. “Please, I didn’t even get to the fucking in my dream about you, so I need this.” 

Squeezing your asscheeks, Namjoon pulls you apart and uses his leg to push your knees apart more to open you. 

“I definitely got to the fucking part in mine,” Namjoon says with a chuckle as he runs his thumb over your pussy, first gathering your arousal from where it leaks at your entrance and gliding it up to wet your clit even more. 

“What,” you swallow the drool you’re afraid might come out of you when Namjoon picks up the pace, “What was your dream like?” 

“I don’t know if I should tell you. It was weird.” 

He circles your clit, occasionally thumbing at it with gentle flicks at the tip that makes your legs shake. When you start kicking your foot and moaning louder, he finally brings his mouth down to where you throb for him. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan against Namjoon’s bed sheets. 

You’ve got your face pressed into the bed because you can’t keep your head up as he fucks his tongue in you while he rubs your clit with his slick fingers. He moans against your pussy when he switches positions so he’s fingering you while he laps at your clit. His movements are languid, which drives you even crazier than if he’d been fingerfucking you hard enough to make your ass jiggle.

“Good?” he murmurs with his lips slick and his fingers still massaging your walls.

“So good, god, your lips are so perfect, fuck,” you moan and push back against his face. “Tell me your dream. Was it like this?”

Namjoon kisses your clit before bringing his other hand to rub it while he still fingers you. Leaning back on his knees, Namjoon increases the speed of his movements as he admits, “You were the Devil, and I fucked you so good that you kept me as a pet.” 

“I WHAT?” 

You turn around to stare at Namjoon with wide eyes and an inability to say anything more as your orgasm rips a whiny moan out of you, legs shaking and threatening to collapse. Namjoon wraps his arm around your waist and keeps rubbing your clit until you wiggle away from him when you grow too sensitive. 

Namjoon wipes his messy fingers on your thigh and shrugs. 

“I told you it was a weird dream.”

Join the 100 Drabble Challenge taglist.

@jooniesxbby @seokteoksworld @taegeum @dprmoon @chimmisbae @yoonminkookk @joonsmagicshop @shameless-army

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie).

[andypantsx3]

fruit first (ask questions later) | k. bakugou

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Gender Neutral Reader

length: 3.6k

summary: When the grocery store you’re in becomes collateral in a villain attack, pro hero Dynamight comes to your rescue. When you become armed with a handful of oranges, however, someone may need to come to his rescue…

A short, mostly fluffy nothing for the prompt Bakugou + oranges. Part of the Willow’s House server Meet Fruit collab, where I took “meet fruit” extremely literally. Thank you @willowser for letting me in even though my dumb ass signed up late!!

tags/warnings: sfw, fluff, sexual tension, gender neutral reader

You were in the produce section when it happened.

The season was creeping into summertime now, the weather outside hot and humid and perfect for fresh produce–stalks of crunchy asparagus, fat ruby-red tomatoes, and tiny little berries nestled in their containers like a fistful of jewels.

You had admittedly been getting a little over-indulgent, your basket already straining against the skin of your forearm, heavy with more fruits and vegetables than a single person might feasibly consume before they went bad. But you were heady with visions of summer salads and fancy grain bowls, cool and leafy and refreshing, a balm against the sweltering city heat.

You’d just been adding a couple oranges to your basket when the first sign came.

It started as a rumble from far off, like the sound of slow-rolling thunder.

It echoed through the store, the bass buzzing through the shelves, making them hum. The lights flickered for a moment, their fluorescence dimming. A few of the people around you glanced up curiously, but nothing else in the interior of the store changed—no screaming, no crying, no running.

At first there was nothing to indicate that you might need to abandon your groceries in a pique of terror.

That was, until another boom sounded just overhead. And then the ceiling was suddenly ripped open with violent force.

A hunk of the steel frame was pulled back like the tab on a sardine can, the caging screaming in protest, and a shower of plaster rained down around you, breaking apart in slabs. An enormous, hulking figure peered through the hole, then dropped into the aisles before you, shaking the floor with his heavy landing.

Behind him, several other figures skittered into the building, one woman climbing down the wall like a lizard as a few others dropped in through the hole. A man suddenly popped into existence a few feet away from the orange stand with a crack like a gunshot. You startled, stumbling backwards, knocking into the oranges and sending a wave of them plopping to the floor.

There was no mistaking who these people were.

Villains. An entire crew of them.

All at once, the shoppers around you scrambled for cover, letting out a cacophony of shrieks and screams. You backed away, only for your foot to catch on an orange, rolling your ankle.

A bright stab of pain lanced through the joint, and you went down, hard, banging your elbow on a nearby display. You caught the floor with your rib cage, crushing an orange under your hip, your basket screeching across the floor next to you.

It knocked the breath right out of you, and you gasped, just as a blade of energy went singing overhead, slicing through the shelves and sending explosions of fruits and metal into the air. They rained down around you, a chunk of shelf framing tipping over and slamming down on your leg, fruits and vegetables slapping across every inch of your body.

Screams went up from the far side of the store, and you bit back a yelp of pain, tears forming in your eyes.

“Grab as many civvies as you can!” a deep voice barked out. “Hold ‘em like a shield and get moving to the next location!”

Your whole body iced over in fear, your ankle and leg screaming in protest as your limbs locked up. Footsteps echoed in every direction as the group of villains split up, hunting down their civilian targets. You hoped wildly, desperately that no one had seen you go down behind the citrus display.

Your hopes were in vain, however. Bootsteps rounded the corner, and the man who had appeared from thin air bent over the shelving pinning you down.

He was tall and wiry, with a face like a weasel and a thinning crop of dark hair. A malicious grin split the sides of his face as he took you in, yellow eyes flickering over you. “Hello sweet thing,” he cooed.

Your stomach flipped in despair as he prowled closer, oranges rolling away from his boots. Your hands scrambled at your sides, fingernails digging into the floor, as you tried to drag yourself backwards, away from him.

He cackled, high, reedy and excited, stalking down the aisle between two fruit stands. Two steps brought him right to you, and he leaned in, smiling widely. He reached out his long, straggly fingers, grasping for you—

And then he promptly blinked out of existence as a furious explosion crackled into life right where he had been. The brightness seared your eyes, blinding you, and a scorching heat scalded your face as a deafening boom rattled your teeth.

You snapped your eyes shut reflexively, but the light and heat was gone as soon as it came. The pad of boots approached you over the ringing in your ears, and you blinked open your eyes. Behind the spots that dotted your vision was a familiar face—one you’d seen on TV dozens, if not hundreds of times.

Bakugou Katsuki, alias pro hero Dynamight.

The first, wild, reeling, nonsense thought you had was that he was so much more handsome in person.

Red eyes glowed like scarlet embers through the dark of his black domino mask, and a scowl sat angrily but prettily on his plush mouth. He had scratches raked across one high cheekbone and down the line of his strong jaw, and his hero uniform had endured something worse, torn in several places, baring the bulge of one enormous bicep, and the trim line of his waist at one side.

The sight dazed you almost more than the flash of his explosion had, and Bakugou turned his scowl down on you, sweaty strands of blonde hair falling across his forehead as he did.

“You break anything, extra?” He rasped. His voice was lower, too, gravelly in a way that apparently didn’t translate well over TV airwaves.

You gaped for a moment, then quickly corralled yourself as his scowl deepened. You tried shifting your leg under the shelving, a fresh wave of pain lancing through you. “Um, my ankle I think is no good—I’m not sure if it’s broken—”

You were interrupted by a sound like a gunshot, splitting the air right in front of you, and then the teleport villain appeared just in front of you. He lunged for Bakugou, and you caught the flash of a blade in the fluorescent lighting. A reflexive scream tore out of you, trying to warn Bakugou—

But Bakugou was faster. He whipped around, a terrifying smile splitting his mouth, an explosion already crackling in his palm.

The teleport villain flickered out of sight again, just in time for Bakugou’s explosion to rip apart the air where he had been, splintering several of the displays around you and blasting a shelf of crackers and jelly apart. You could hear the glass and cracker bits raining down like chunks of hail.

Bakugou quickly turned back to you, eyeing you evaluatively. “Stay down, extra, and don’t fuckin’ move. I’ll take care of this asshole.”

You nodded hurriedly, shifting under the shelving that had you pinned. You managed to wedge yourself into the rough wood of the citrus display at your side, as if you could disappear into it if only you pressed hard enough.

Bakugou turned his back to you, one arm out as if to block anyone’s line of sight to you. The lines of his broad shoulders were tense under the white-hot glare of the store lights, and you noticed another gash in his uniform along one shoulder blade, exposing a peek of his back muscles.

Bakugou was moving almost before you even heard the next teleportation crackle, spinning to aim an explosion to his right. He launched himself after it with a vengeance, only to blow right through another display as the villain winked out of existence again. It seemed like he was fast, possibly too fast…

And then that gunshot noise again–and the villain was right next to you. In one impossibly fast movement Bakugou rerouted himself with a searing blast that ripped the tile right off the floor. In less than a second he was screaming down on the villain with all the speed and fiery fury of a falling comet. He aimed another shot right where the villain was standing—

But the villain disappeared again.

Bakugou neatly dodged you with another explosion aimed at the ground, the hot wind of it throwing you back against the orange crate. He somersaulted over the display just as another crack sounded behind it, and you could hear another explosion tearing through yet more of the produce.

And then another growled swear from Bakugou told you the villain had vanished again.

Your heart beat double time, wondering anxiously how bad this match up was. Bakugou was the number two hero, and you’d always assumed he’d be well-matched against any type of quirk. You’d seen a million broadcasts of his takedowns, quick and purposeful and scarily precise, with one of the fastest takedown averages on record.

But it was clear this villain was slippery and all together too quick. You didn’t know how Bakugou was supposed to catch someone who could disappear within milliseconds.

You thought probably the only chance could be to unleash his full power. On the news, you’d seen him send entire buildings crumbling. If he wanted to, he could tear this entire storefront down, set the entire inside on fire and catch the villain no matter where he teleported to in this space.

But instead you were in the middle of things. Bakugou had to aim, had to hold back lest any debris hit you, had to angle himself around you to protect you, all while the teleport villain had no such qualms.

It was possible Bakugou wouldn’t be able to catch this guy under these conditions–and you were the impediment to blame.

You heard Bakugou’s explosion rip apart another display in the distance, and that gunfire crack of the villain disappearing. Heart in your mouth, you cast around you for something, anything that could help him.

If only there was something to even the odds…

And then you found it. Your gaze landed on the spill of oranges at your feet. Fat, round, heavy and hard. Perfectly projectile shaped.

Now that…that was something.

You quickly gathered as many of them as you could, your ankle twinging in protest when you leaned across the shelving that had trapped it. You scooped the oranges up in an armful, depositing them in your lap, grabbing the largest and hefting it aloft just as another gunshot sound echoed in front of you.

The villain flickered into view right in front of you. You drew your arm back, whipping the orange at him with all of your might. But then like a lightning strike, Bakugou was there, explosion in hand. The villain flashed back out of sight, flames raking the store behind him, nearly blinding in their brilliance.

In another millisecond, the orange caught Bakugou on the thigh. You could hear the hard thump of it against the muscle even over the crackle of Bakugou’s explosion. It sent Bakugou slightly off course, and he had to aim another shot at the ground to catch himself before landing on his feet.

Instantly he whipped around to glare at you, smoke rising off his hands. “Oi, brat, what the fuck’re you throwing shit at me for?”

Your mouth dropped open belatedly, shocked that you’d just beaned the number two hero with a navel orange.

“Oh shit—” you gasped out. “I didn’t mean—it was for him—”

Bakugou’s mouth opened, but then another crack sounded across the store, the teleport villain undoubtedly in sight again. Bakugou threw a shot at him again, but you could tell it had missed by the way the villain materialized again just behind Bakugou.

Before you knew what you’d done, another orange was already in flight. Instead of turning to hit the villain, Bakugou was forced to duck before the orange went right through where his head had been. You heard it hit the floor as the villain was gone again, bouncing into a roll.

“Fucking—! Brat, knock it the hell off!” Bakugou growled, his red-hot glare searing your skin. “Or I will cram those things so far up your—”

Another teleportation crack cut him off, and he launched an attack over your head. The heat scalded the top of your head, blowing a flurry of fruits off of the citrus display.

Good. More ammo, regardless of what Bakugou said.

Except, well, this time you would try to aim better.

It was another few heart-pounding minutes before you got your redemption shot, Bakugou and the teleport villain chasing one another all over the grocery store in the most anxiety-inducing game of cat and mouse you had ever witnessed. You could hear entire sections of the store becoming victim to Bakugou’s quirk, hear the sharp cackle of the villain’s laughter and Bakugou’s angry swearing.

And then came the moment.

The gunshot noise that heralded the teleport villain’s quirk exploded in the air right in front of you again, and it was then that you unleashed a volley of fruits–whipping one as hard as you could as you unleashed several more across the floor. A heel materialized just over a rolling orange, and then the rest of the villain—and you watched with malicious pleasure as his ankle buckled and he went to the floor just as hard as you had.

That moment of stunned surprise was all Bakugou needed. He was there in a single second, an explosion catching the villain and blowing him straight across the floor. He hit the side of another display with a sickening thud. Lettuce spattered him in a shower of leaves, plastic bagging fluttering in the aftershocks of Bakugou’s explosion.

Bakugou was on the villain again instantly, and you caught the silver flash of quirk suppressing cuffs as Bakugou buckled him to the shelves, snarling a victorious stream of swear-laden insults. The villain was unresponsive, clearly knocked unconscious by the force of Bakugou’s blow.

In under a minute, Bakugou was striding back over to you, his boots echoing heavily on the tile.

“Watch where the fuck you’re throwing shit next time, brat,” he snipped at you, even as he bent down, hands going under the shelving that had you pinned. His bicep corded with effort, and the metal screeched as it was lifted, clanging to the tile as Bakugou threw it off of you.

You watched it fall, dazed. Bakugou squatted down next to you, catching your ankle and pulling it carefully to him.

You blinked, surprised by the gentle touch, eyes following Bakugou as he leaned over your injury, poking and prodding carefully. His eyelashes dusted the tops of his cheekbones, long and golden and a little too pretty for a man.

“I–ouch–I got him though,” you said defensively.

Bakugou’s scarlet gaze flicked up to your face, and a weird zing went down your spine. He really was so gorgeous in person, you had to admit, even beat to hell like he was now.

“Got me too, you fuckin’ brat,” Bakugou said. Strangely, his expression went clearer as he spoke, however, like he wasn’t even that mad about it. His fingers pressed delicately at the inside of your ankle, just beneath the jut of bone.

“Well you were in the way,” you groused, though you knew your second throw really had been a little poorly aimed. Bakugou snorted.

“...Got a good fucking arm on you though,” he allowed after a few more seconds of prodding.

It startled a laugh out of you, and a surprising hint of a grin cut across Bakugou’s own mouth, white and straight and viciously pleased.

“I—thanks,” you said, strangely flattered. “I think.”

“Yeah yeah,” Bakugou said, red eyes wandering over you. Then he went back to poking around your ankle, and you tried not to watch his arm flex as he shifted through the motions. “‘S fractured but not broken, I think,” he declared when he was finally satisfied.

“Oh,” you said, “Well that’s better than I thought.”

You shifted uneasily, wondering what the process was now that you’d been diagnosed. You’d never been in an attack before. Did you just sit here and wait for a paramedic to come to you? Or, could you ask Bakugou to help get you up to hobble out of the store?

You’d just decided to sit tight when Bakugou decided for you. A strong hand wormed its way under your thighs as another swept around your back, and then you were being hefted into Bakugou’s arms in one smooth, upsettingly easy movement.

Embarrassingly, your thighs clenched, even as your arms reflexively went around Bakugou’s neck.

You could feel a prickle of heat flaming across your face as he looked down at you, those scarlet eyes picking across your features. “Gonna get you to the paramedics, brat, they’ll fix your shit right up,” he said, so close now that you could feel his exhalation on your collarbone.

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. “I—yes, that sounds good—thanks.”

Bakugou nodded, shifting you more securely against him, and then picked his way across the rubble, holding you tight. You tried not to revel in the feeling of his arms around you, aware this was an entirely inappropriate train of thought to have during a rescue. Especially when you’d hit the man with an orange.

It was a disappointingly short journey—you were outside in nearly a minute, and it was only another few seconds before Bakugou set you down on the back of an ambulance. A young, friendly paramedic bustled over and Bakugou relayed your condition in a brusque growl.

Surprisingly, however, he lingered close as the paramedic assessed the condition of your ankle and applied his quirk—a green light that made every nerve in your leg hum in response, but instantly took away the pain in your ankle. Then the paramedic wrapped you in compression bandages to keep it set straight.

“Ice it when you get home and keep it elevated when you sleep,” he advised you in his spritely tone. “I’ve got a regeneration quirk so you should be all healed up by the time you wake up, but you’ll want to keep off of it as much as you can in the meantime.”

You thanked him, and were surprised when Bakugou thanked him too, although much more briskly.

Then Bakugou turned back to you, red eyes catching yours again. You found you couldn’t look away from him, as shy as you were suddenly feeling out in the daylight. A few seconds ticked by, and you could feel your ears going hot as Bakugou looked you over.

“So. You want dinner or what?” Bakugou asked finally, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes got momentarily stuck on the tear in his sleeve, the way the divot of muscle peeked through in the afternoon light.

Then you gaped up at him when you caught up with what he’d said. “Do I—dinner—with you?”

Bakugou looked down at you, a smirk curling his lip as if he’d just realized where your attention had been. “Yeah. ‘M off shift after I give this report. Thought you might want a thanks for the assist or whatever. But if you’re gonna be fuckin’ squirrely about it, then—”

“Yes!” You gasped out, almost before you even realized you’d spoken. A thrill like lightning sang down your spine, electrifying all your nerve endings. Bakugou Katsuki—pro hero Dynamight—had just asked you to dinner?

Of fucking course you were gonna say yes.

Your brain swam, still unsure you’d heard him correctly, but then he leaned in, an arm coming up to catch the side of the ambulance van just beside your face.

“Good,” he said, another viciously pleased smile cutting across his mouth. Something hot crawled into your stomach, and you suddenly realized dinner might be only the tip of the iceberg Bakugou was steering your ship towards. “Gonna have to have a word about your aim, though,” he said, his gaze searing. “Don’t think you’ve gotten out of it just because I like you and you got that teleport asshole too.”

The low, raspy way he spoke was heavier with promise more than reprimand—and it sent another swarm of shivers over your skin.

Bakugou’s eyes caught it, a reply even clearer than if you had spoken. He grinned victoriously, pushing off of the ambulance to stalk over the police presence that had started to amass just beyond the sidewalk, presumably to give his report.

“Stay right here, brat, I’ll be back for you,” he promised, and you grew roots in your seat.

And then you watched him stalk off, staring in disbelief after his broad back. You couldn’t believe the number two hero had just asked you to dinner. And after you’d accidentally beaned him with an orange!

All you’d done was go to the grocery store in anticipation of produce, and you’d walked out with the promise of a date instead.

A ridiculous loop of orange you glad you decided to go grocery shopping? echoed wildly in your brain, a sign of the sheer ridiculousness of your situation. But yeah, you thought, as Bakugou leaned in to speak to a police officer, those scarlet eyes cutting unmistakably back towards you.

You really, really were.

[grandlinedreams]

omg omg omg your fics are so adorable😭😭😭 if you don’t mind could do you an angsty hurt/comfort law x reader story about how the reader gets captured by marines and gets tortured, and the heart pirates have to rescue them and get them back to health ??

have a good day or night!!💗💗💗

Hdhdh thank-you, I try!! But absolutely i can!! I hope that this is to your liking!!

[Heads up!: mentions of canon typical violence, injuries, established relationship, hurt/comfort]

"It's not as bad as it looks."

Law looks up, jaw clenched as he prods gloved fingers against the dark cluster of bruising on your side. You bite back a hiss as he does so, exhaling when he lets up.

"They cracked at least two of your ribs." His tone is flat, and you can tell that he's upset ㅡ with you or the marines, however, you're not entirely sure. "From what I've been able to assess so far, that's also in addition to your arm, which is broken. Two of your fingers needed reset, not to mention the likelyhood of a concussionㅡ"

"Okay," you interrupt, "maybe it is as bad as it looks."

Law's eyes narrow. "That's understatement." You watch as he turns to grab a pair of tweezers, soaking a cottonball into antiseptic before he brings it up to dab at the puffy cut on your cheek. "You could have died."

You bite back another hiss, closing your eyes at the pain that lances from your bruised (and cracked) ribs. "But I didn't."

"You got lucky." Law's tone is icy as he dabs at the split in your lip. You watch as he turns to begin cleaning up the supplies he's used.

"Next timeㅡ"

Law almost slams the bandage case shut and turns to you, expression that of quiet fury, golden eyes blazing. "Next time? The next time you're dumb enough to get caught, they'll kill you. There will be no next time, [Name]."

You meet his gaze. "I'd rather die than betray this crew, Law. You know that."

Law is silent as he finishes up cleaning things and packing them away before he gets to his feet and moves towards the door. He pauses there, shoulders slumping with his slow exhale. "I know," he answers at last, "and that's exactly what I'm afraid of."

ㅡ

"I never did get to thank you two for rescuing me," you say as you study the cards before you, peering up at Penguin and Shachi.

Penguin smiles. "It was no problem. Kind of cool to get to sneak into a marine base. Like a spy."

"We couldn't have done it without captain," Shachi adds before he pauses. "Speaking of, did captain give you the okay to be wandering around again?"

Your lips part.

"No," comes the clipped response from behind you, making you freeze before you tip your head back to find Law staring at you. "I didn't."

"Iㅡ"

"Room." Tattooed fingers grip your shoulder. "Shambles."

Your stomach spins as scenery abruptly shifts, and you huff as Law appears a moment after you. "Using your devil fruit on me? Really?"

"Yes," Law answers, frustration clear in both his tone and expression. "Because you apparently can't follow orders. I told you bedrest and minimal movement."

"They're going to suspect something if they figure out you used it to drop me in your room."

He shrugs, arms folded across his chest. "Let them."

You groan. "Law, I'm going to insane. Let me do something."

"I'll tell you what you can do," Law starts, watches your expression light up. "You can do as I tell you and quit being a brat."

You stare, expression going deadpan. "There's no fun in that."

Law scowls before he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "...just do this for me," he says, tone softer. "Please."

You stare and then huff as you move towards is bed, yanking the covers back to slip beneath them. Mindful not to jostle your arm or your bruised side, you turn to look at Law. "Happy?"

"Thrilled," comes the amused answer when you sulk, and he approaches to crouch beside the bed. "Quit pouting, you're an adult."

"But this is boring."

"Try to sleep. Rest is going to help you more than anything." Placing his hand over your eyes, Law can feel the brush of your eyelashes.

"Trying to smother me isn't going to help either."

Law's eyes flick skyward for a moment as he sighs. "I'm hardly smothering you. Although it's an idea, given that you'd be unconscious."

You reach up, pulling his hand down enough you can stare. "You wouldn't dare." He raises an eyebrow, and your eyes narrow. "Law."

"Then go to sleep." He counters crisply. "Or what can I offer you that will get you to stay put so I can work and not have to hunt you down?"

You hum, expression thoughtful before your eyes lock with his. "Kiss me." When he gives you a flat look, you grin. "You heard me, if you give me a kiss I'llㅡ"

Law's lips are against yours, familiar pressure that makes your eyes slide shut as you press back, good hand coming up to rest against the back of his cap. And then he's pulling away, ignoring your whine of protest. "Go to sleep."

"But I wantㅡ"

"Sleep," Law emphasizes. "We made a deal."

He pulls away completely, and you scowl before turning away with a huff. "Fine. Since you won't give me another kiss."

Scoffing, Law reaches to tug at the brim of his hat, hoping you don't notice the faint flush to his cheeks. "And I told you to stop being a brat."

Crossing the room, Law seats himself at his desk and flips open one of the various books he'd been taking notes from earlier. He doesn't know how long he reads for but when he looks up again, you're finally asleep.

[autisticlancemcclain]

this is how it continued

———

This is how it ends.

———

This is how it ends.

———

This is how it ends.

———

This is how it ends.

———

Lance tries for weeks to make it end.

The words crawl up like bile in the back of his throat. Keith, he tries to say, time and time again, we need to talk. And when he manages to push through the stinging burn and say them, breath turning to dust in his lungs, Keith crooks his finger under Lance’s chin and meets Lance’s eyes and replies, just as quietly, Of course, sweetheart. What’s wrong?

And every time Lance is faced with the softness in his dark eyes, the steady way he holds his gaze. And every time something inside him cracks, desperate and howling and selfish after being deprived so long, and his bravery dries up like a tiny stream in the summer heat. And instead of saying When did you start loving me, Keith, ‘cause you woke up one day and decided we’d been together for ages and everyone thinks you’re crazy his chin trembles and his eyes burn and he cries, again, and tells Keith of the months without him.

Every day I’m sorry I left you behind, Keith whispers into the heat of Lance’s skin, and every time in response Lance knows, I do not deserve this from you. And the desperate howling selfish part of him grows stronger and stronger.

Lance needs to make it end.

———

He cannot make it end publicly.

It’s too…messy for that. It has been too long now. He hasn’t counted the days but he knows what it looks like right before Keith screams himself awake, now, knows how to press his cold hands to the side of his neck and the curve of his ribs to startle his dream-self into thinking kinder thoughts. He knows how the chip on Keith’s right front tooth feels on his tongue, his knuckles, his shoulder. He knows that Keith showers with his eyes shut out of years of habit of showering in the dark and fearing the sting of the soap.

Rarely do they stop at a hotel. Usually they sleep in shifts, staying in space for days at a time instead of resting every night. It’s horrible and cramped and makes everyone cranky, but it brings them home faster. After everyone is fed up of air travel, which never takes long, they often stop somewhere small and uninhabited and out of the way – a moon, a burgeoning planet, a long-abandoned one. Whatever is closest. On those nights, the nine of them, plus the animals, will stretch and enjoy the fresh air, if there is any, maybe watch a setting sun. And then they will make a fire and cook rations or a real meal, if they can find ingredients and Hunk or Lance have the energy. And after everyone has eaten and conversations have long begun to slow, after teeth have been brushed and faces have been washed, after their friends have nodded off one by one, Keith will push their bedrolls together to make one, spread a blanket over the two of them, and hold Lance close; without question, without hesitation. And he will be out in moments, gently snoring along to whatever alien crickets are crooning into the night, and Lance will trace the shape of his face under the light of the dying embers and forget to be guilty. He will feel safe in Keith’s hold like he does not feel anywhere else and his feet will be warmed between Keith’s thighs. He will fall asleep with a smile on his face.

———

Five months into their journey, Coran says: “I have an announcement to make.”

“What’s up?” Pidge asks, swinging her feet from where she sits sideways in her chair, hair a mess, face buried in the not-quite-DS they found a few planets back. Lance smiles and rolls his eyes.

“In the next quintaint, we will be approaching Deruyn. The Deruy were close friends of the Alteans, eons ago, and the Chancellor has extended to me an invitation to reacquaint ourselves. If you’re all amenable, my dears, we have been invited to stay in the guest wing of her royal quarters for a week.”

Lance straightens up, rubber band ball he was toying with slipping from his grasp. He hears it bounce several times behind him before an abrupt stop, and then a very angry moo. He winces.

“Sorry, Kaltenecker.”

She huffs, clearly still miffed.

Everyone is talking over each other, eyes bright and excited through their video connections. Coran looks pleased, watching them all chatter. Lance catches his eye and smiles at him.

A whole week in a royal wing…and a real royal wing! Nothing like the paladin quarters they lived in on the Castle. They bedrooms will be huge, probably; fancy and ornate. Maybe a canopy bed and pillows comfier than Lance can even fathom.

And baths. Lance hopes there are big, deep baths he can almost swim in.

“You look dreamy.”

Keith’s amused voice startles him out of his daydreaming, although he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed. Everyone else is still chattering on, bubbling with excitement — no one is looking at him.

“I am,” Lance admits. He puts a hand to his forehead and sighs, more dramatically than necessary, pleased when it brings the expected reaction of Keith’s fond little smile. “There might be baths, Keith. Real baths. And oils and soaps and soft towels. And pillows! And a queen-sized bed!”

Keith’s smile turns teasing. “What you need is an Alaskan king.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Keith’s laugh has gotten rumblier since his space whale growth spurt, that’s the only way Lance can explain it. It’s softer and darker and suggests smile lines around his eyes he didn’t have before. Every time Lance looks at them he imagines them getting deeper and wider.

“Been a while since we’ve been somewhere with a real bed, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Gotta make sure they don’t book us two separate rooms again,” Keith huffs, crease appearing between his eyebrows. “I still don’t know what that was about.”

Lance’s mouth goes dry.

I do, he should be saying. I know exactly why there were two separate rooms booked for us. In fact I can guarantee it will happen again.

But he is a coward. And the words die somewhere in his belly, before they can come anywhere near his throat.

———

It takes time to reach Deruyn. Some of this is because Shiro read the map backwards and set them back two days. (“I’m dyslexic!” he had defended, to their booing and whining. “There is not booing and whining to dyslexia! Do you boo and whine a lisp? No! Let me live!”)

By the time they finally manage to drag their poor, exhausted Lions to the sizeable planet, everyone’s excitement is so palpable Lance doesn’t need an emotional bond to feel it.

“Fresh air,” sighs Allura.

“Good food,” seconds Hunk.

“People to talk to that aren’t you fools,” agrees Pidge.

“A mattress,” Keith adds, and shoots Lance a wink.

Despite himself and rolling mess of feeling in his stomach, Lance flushes.

Coran accepts a call as soon as they’re within radio range, greeting a narrow-faced, pink-skinned woman who must be the Chancellor. Immediately they delve into a conversation that Lance doesn’t even pretend to follow. He recognizes Coran’s tone from the many times his mother would strike up a conversation with an aunt or uncle or any guest at all as they were leaving the house — this conversation could be hours long. His eyes glaze over, sliding away from his Lion’s display to take in the planet in front of him.

Deluyn is large, that much is obvious. It’s hard to scale something with such magnitude when it’s so close to your face, but if Lance had to guess, he would place it somewhere between Jupiter and the Balmera. It has no rings but the whole planet seems to glow, slightly, although Lance can see no clear source for it. The colours visible from orbit are entirely alien to him, so he’s not sure what is water, if anything is, but from the angry look of the planet’s poles, the dark green things are clouds.

What feels like a million hours later, but it probably only around fifteen minutes, there’s a click as the Chancellor and Coran end their call, and they are urged forward into landing. As they get closer to the landing strip, Lance notices dozens of children sprinting along the barrier, holding signs and flags and cheering. He grins, twisting his hands tighter around Red’s controls, hanging back just slightly from formation to give himself space to move. Then he yanks the controls to the side, feeling Red roar as she whips around in a tight circle, flames rolling down her back. The children jump up and down, fists raised, mouths open in shouts of joy. Several of their grownups watch with wide grins, too, necks craned to watch Lance spin around.

He pulls back into formation after a couple of tricks, sliding smoothly in between Black and Blue. His heart rate ticks up, and suddenly his undersuit feels tight, itchy. He squirms in his seat. When Shiro’s face pops up to relay landing instructions he flinches, and immediately hates himself for the hurt look that eclipses his friend’s face.

“…Lance?” Shiro asks softly, confusion lining his voice. He looks like a kicked puppy. Lance is a monster.

“I’m just jumpy, I’m just jumpy,” he assures, forcing a smile and holding it there until Shiro’s shoulders relax. “You know. So excited to see where we’ll be staying.”

“Yeah, me too! Coran even said they have this massive sauna they’re really famous for. I can’t wait. I miss what saunas do for my skin. And, plus, having our own rooms will be nice.” His excited grin turns sly. “Well, most of us will have our own room.”

Lance’s heart pounds for a totally different reason. “Okay thanks Shiro bye —”

He reaches to cut the connection but Shiro stops him, laughing.

“No, no, wait, I’ve got landing instructions. Their staff is limited so we gotta go one at a time, okay, stay in your Lion once you’re parked in case you need to adjust…”

Thankfully it’s nothing too complicated. Keith lands first, and Lance next to him, then Pidge, then Allura, then Hunk. Once they’re all parked and confirmed by ground control, they’re cleared it exit, none of them taking their time.

Well, everyone else disembarks pretty fast. Kaltenecker remains and stubborn pain in the ass as usual, and Lance is stuck trying desperately to drag an 800 something pound cow that has absolutely no desire to work with him. “Kallie,” he begs, tugging uselessly on her leash, “you dumb ass fucking animal. Please. I am begging you. I put up with your farts in the cabin for days on end, which has got to be shaving years off my life. The food I feed you could be better but in all fairness, I’m getting the same slop you are, so. Maybe cut me some slack.”

She doesn’t even moo at him.

Lance tries bribery.

“Say, you want good food? I bet they have good food on this planet. Nice, sweet, fresh grass. You love grass. You want grass? Please come on, Kallie. Everyone else has already left and I’m going to die of embarrassment if I’m the last paladin left, doing the walk of shame with his stubborn cow behind him. The jokes will write themselves. I’ll have to quit and join a travelling circus, and then who will put up with you? Remember that Allura wants to turn you into hamburgers.”

Clearly hamburgers were the wrong thing to mention, because if cows can glare, Kaltenecker does. She even has the audacity to huff her cow breath at him and drag them both further into Red. Red, who is a traitor, does absolutely nothing to help and is in fact laughing herself sick, loudly, in Lance’s mind.

“I shoulda left you in that damn mall,” Lance grumbles, not meaning it. He sighs and collapses against his cow’s side, closing his eyes. Just his luck. The rest of his friends are gallivanting about a fancy-dancy castle as guests of honour, and Lance is babysitting a methane machine. “I’m gonna have to sleep here tonight, aren’t I.”

“Well, I hope not.”

Lance yelps, jumping to his feet. Unfortunately, in his haste, his boot hooks around Kaltenecker’s hoof, and since she is still unmoving, he goes sprawling. Fortunately, Keith got stranded in a space whale for two years and took Prince Charming classes, or something, so he catches him.

“You’re such a nervous wreck,” Keith says fondly, leaning down to kiss him instead of letting Lance stand like a normal person. (Not. That Lance. Is necessarily complaining. But for prosperity’s sake, and everything, keeping a man in a dip for too long is just undignified, Keith, you should know that, you graduated top of your class from Fairytale University. So. Pull yourself together.)

“Am not,” Lance protests. He sighs as Keith adjusts his hold on him, patting around blindly until he finds the edge of Keith’s braid and undoing it. He slides his hands in that thick hair with a relish as soon as it’s free, making Keith chuckle (but, wisely, not say anything, because the one and only time he commented Lance avoided him for two days out of pure embarrassment).

“I sent the rest of the team on when you didn’t come out. Figured Kaltenecker was giving you trouble.” He meets Lance’s eyes and grins, dark eyes mischievous and sparkling, and Lance is seriously going to walk off a bridge because who authorized that, who, who approved the combination of big dark eyes and a crooked grin and a face that promises trouble. Huh? The fuck’s up with that. “Figured I could help.”

Lance manages to find a shred of dignity within himself and steps slightly away. “That’s great, Noble Kent, but last I checked you couldn’t drag an 800 pound heifer either, so.”

Keith nods. “‘Course not. Brought Kosmo. Here, boy.”

The wolf poofs to existence at Keith’s side, barking excitedly. He bounds up to Lance first, expecting his usual barrage of kisses and head scratches (which he gets), then gets all shy as he walks over to his crush. Kaltenecker looks over at him and no lie rolls her eyes, looking away again. Kosmo, however, is undeterred, barking happily before blipping them both out of existence.

“She is never gonna love you, dude,” Keith says, shaking his head.

Lance snorts, taking Keith’s offered hand and heading down Red’s ramp (finally). “Wouldn’t it be weirder if she did? I think we’d have to break them up. Like, ethically.”

“Could be a Donkey and Dragon situation.”

“Shut up. It ruins my perception of you every time I’m reminded you’ve seen Shrek.”

“You’re perception of me,” Keith repeats, musing. His right eyebrow twitches, and it’s too small to see at arm’s distance, but Lance knows a tiny scar ripples there, from when he was fourteen and got it pierced in defiance of Shiro. “What is your perception of me?”

Lance keeps himself steady. He puts one foot in front of the other and keeps his left hand held in Keith’s. There is nothing interrogating in Keith’s tone, he reminds himself, although maybe there should be. When he looks up Keith’s eyes are open and curious and something else he doesn’t know how to name.

“You’re honest,” he says quietly. He means to say more, has a list he could probably recite bullet by bullet, but he doesn’t.

“Honest,” Keith mutters to himself. “Huh.”

Lance swallows. He doesn’t know how he could possibly explain the weight to that. Keith is committed and brave and talented and beautiful. But more than that he is truthful. Does he see? Does he know?

An empty landing pad passes remarkably slowly when two people walk in silence. There are crafts of all kinds and tarmac upon tarmac. Eventually, though, they start walking somewhere a little more crowded; thin, reedy people resembling the Chancellor waving to them as they pass. Lance would stop to ask for directions, but the giant castle is kind of hard to miss, so they just walk in the direction of it hope their armour will do the talking for them.

Keith catches a richly dyed ribbon blowing by as they pass through a crowded market, trapping the fine thing between his fingers as it passes between them. It’s a strange and familiar colour, walking the line between indigo and deep violet. He glances around for a stall that might be selling them, and when he can’t find one, he turns to Lance and says, “Hold out your arm.”

Lance does. Carefully, Keith unlatches his vambrace, tucking it under his arm, then peels up his undersuit to lay bare his wrist. His tongue sticks out of his mouth slightly in concentration as he ties it among Lance’s dozens of string bracelets, right above his blue Moana watch still counting the hours back home.

“There,” he says proudly. “Looks good on you.”

Lance reaches up and kisses him until neither of them can breathe.

———

They know they will be teased when they finally meet with their friends at the castle.

“Let’s not,” Keith suggests, nodding at the guards who move to let them past.

“I’ll find out where our room is?” Lance says.

Keith nods. “Yeah, we’ll need that.”

“‘Kay, wait here. Don’t be obvious, or Allura will smell drama and come running.”

He’s jinxed them by saying anything at all — no sooner do the words leave his lips does Keith tense up, screwing up his face in an attempt to appear neutral but resembling instead someone who is trying very hard not to sneeze. Lance manages not to laugh, squeezing his hand once before darting off, choosing a random corridor and going with it.

Thankfully, he manages to find a person who holds a clipboard and walks with a purpose, so he assumes they know what they’re doing. Double thankfully, they do, and not only direct him to their rooms but press a labeled map into his hands. It even has a schedule on the back for mealtimes and room cleaning, which is something Lance totally forgot existed. He runs back to Keith quickly, careful to avoid the kitchen and the armoury — places he’s sure his friends will be.

Keith is earnestly inspecting a mounted sword on the wall when Lance returns. His nose is maybe an inch from the polished blade, probably less, honestly. Lance bites his lip to hold down a snicker and takes a picture, intending blackmail, but it ends up being the perfect shot — his hair is slightly wavy from the braid he wore earlier, and there’s a cute scrunch to his nose, not to mention his squinted eyes like he’s wishing for reading glasses. It becomes Lance’s background almost without him meaning to.

“C’mon, nerd,” he calls, smiling as Keith startles. “I got a map and someone is gonna meet us there with a key. I wanna check it out, get a move on.”

Keith does indeed hurry over. “I’m so glad they got it right this time. One room! No need to debate over it.”

Lance falters. He’d been so caught up in the excitement of the room and then Kaltenecker and then…Keith, he forgot. They’re not what Keith thinks they are, what Lance has been pretended to be.

“Right,” he manages, mouth suddenly dry. He desperately tries to shove the enthusiasm back in his voice, forcing his face into a smile when Keith looks back. “Right, yeah, that’s so much less of a pain.”

There is indeed someone with a key when they get to the room. The door is light, in both colour and material, and although his feelings are still heavy and conflicting, his excitement wins out. Keith takes the key, thanking the attendant, and a small voice in the back of Lance’s mind whispers this could be them some day, on Earth, with a key of their own. He does his best to ignore it.

“Ready?” Keith asks.

“Please oh please let the bed be bigger than Red’s cabin,” he responds.

Keith snorts. Slowly, out of what must be a desire to torture Lance, he slides the key into the lock and turns it. Lance doesn’t hesitate before shoving it open.

“It is bigger than the cabin!” he shouts, and wastes no time running up and onto it.

He practically sinks into the mattress, so soft it’s like it’s made of hopes and dreams. The blankets are the fluffiest things he’s ever felt in his life. And the space — he stretches out as far as he can, fingers to toes, and not a single limb comes even close to the edge of the bed.

The mattress dips beside him, and a hand slides along the back of his neck.

“This is you before you notice the big canopy.”

Lance lifts his head immediately. He fights back a very undignified squeal when he does, indeed, see a gossamer blue canopy hanging softly from the high ceilings.

“And the windows too, sweetheart. Floor to ceiling, like you like ‘em.”

Lance scrambles to his knees to check. They are. And the view is breathtaking.

“And the bathtub? Is it huge and clawfooted?”

Keith ducks his head, smiling, and presses a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll go check, you grandma. You take your armour off.”

He listens for Keith’s footsteps, waits for them to go from carpet to tile, waits for the “Yep! Claw foot!”, waits for the sound of rushing taps even though he didn’t ask, even though Keith didn’t offer. He turns on his back and stares as the canopy, inspecting the padded wooden roof structure from which the gauzy curtains hang, tracing its sturdy edges and even corners.

Keith makes him feel so warm.

He’s felt a lot of cold, in a lot of places, for a lot of his life. Part of it is the stupid anaemia that he gets to live with. Part of it is stuff he doesn’t like to think about. But Keith comes in with his warm hands and warm smile and stupid big warm heart, and Lance is thawed in every frozen inch of him. It’s good. It’s so good.

He wants it so desperately.

He comes when Keith calls, stripping his armour along the way. Keith is waiting for him in the bath when he gets there — and it is huge, close enough for them to both sit comfortably without brushing so much as a toe against each other, but of course Lance settles his spine against the curve of Keith’s chest the second he slips inside the steaming water. The room smells of sandalwood and lilac.

“You are so important to me,” Keith murmurs, seemingly at random, pressing his lips along Lance’s stretched neck, following the arch of it as he tips his head back to rest on Keith’s shoulder.

Lance’s breath sighs out of him, rising and mixing with the steam. He lifts a shaking hand to twine it to Keith’s, squeezing. Their joined hands are wet against his chest. Together they rise, up and down, up and down, up and down, with every shaky breath.

———

They giggle like teenagers, sneaking into the kitchen well after dark and well after most of the castle has finally gone to bed.

Neither has wanted to face the team’s teasing just yet, or even the team at all, really. Their room can’t be called a room so much as a small apartment — bookshelves lining the wall that Keith had been eyeing for hours, a massive wardrobe, a beautiful velvet sofa, even a small icebox. Neither of them have said it but it feels, implicitly, like their own little space, their own little commune, beyond the privacy of a hotel room. It feels like somewhere they could live. They’re billions of miles away from Earth and anywhere Lance could consider home, but it’s nice to pretend, and neither of them is ready to hop back into reality — or Hunk’s roasting — quite yet.

(It is not what Lance’s mind is pretending. In no world could they ever live in a castle like this. It is foolish to spend his time fantasizing about a future they will probably never have, a home they will never build. The guards stationed at every door should break Lance’s fantasy. But he has always been very, very good at pretending.)

“Just grab some of everything,” he whispers to Keith. “We have actual room cleaning, remember? We can have some dirty dishes, no one will mind.”

“There’s certainly space for it,” Keith agrees.

In minutes the two of them have piled almost more than they can carry. They’re much slower on the walk back, but no less giddy. As soon as the door is locked shut behind them, they’re sat on the bed, even though eating on a bed is disgusting and usually Lance would never permit it, and stuffing their faces.

“Oh my God, this thing tastes like strawberries. Here, try.” Keith holds up a juicy looking silver fruit, Lance leans over to bite it. It does taste like strawberry. He dusts off his hands and crawls over to chase the taste off Keith’s tongue.

“Strawberries get you going?” Keith mumbles, and Lance grins and says, “Something like that.”

They have more food than they can possibly eat and they eat until they can barely move. The rest they wrap up and stick in the icebox.

He can feel Keith falling asleep, head getting heavier, so he pats him gently on the hip and whispers, “Come on, get up, at least get ready first. Wash your face.”

Keith groans. He squishes his face further into Lance’s belly, making him squirm and laugh, and mutters something he can barely here. “Hnnngh. You first. I’ll catch up.”

“You’ll fall asleep,” Lance scolds, but he gets up first anyway. When he glances behind him he sees that Keith has at least managed to put one foot on the ground, so maybe he really will get up and put some pyjamas on.

Lance snorts. Yeah, right.

He takes his time and pokes around the bathroom, having been too preoccupied to do so beforehand. There’s a stack of fluffy towels and cloths on a shelf, and even a couple rough ones for exfoliating. In a cupboard lies dozens of soaps and oils and creams and a million other things, labelled in that same holographic translator stuff the Olkarions use so Lance can read them easily. He is impressed by the wide range of selection — he’s been slowly rebuilding his skincare collection, and will indeed be looting at least half of these bottles to complete it. There’s enough stuff here to do a whole soak. Nice.

Then he turns towards the sink. And he stares.

And he starts to cry.

Laid out exactly as he likes it is his stuff from his pack. His toothbrush, his primary face wash, his hair brush, his lotion, everything. In order of how he uses it, with the sink in the middle, and everything an appropriate distance from the sink so he doesn’t soak the whole counter trying to reach for whatever comes next in his routine. A setup his has perfected over many years and has had genuine conniptions over misplaced steps and wrong orders. Something inane and stupid and that only matters to him.

Of course Keith has noticed, of course Keith has memorized, of course he has replicated.

Lance is a horrible, horrible person.

This is has to be how it ends.

“Keith!” he shouts, and the man comes in running, half groggy and robbing the sleep from his eyes. He’s in a t-shirt and boxers.

“Lance?”

“My brush is — in the wrong place.”

Keith inspects him carefully. “You’re crying.”

“Because the brush is in the wrong place! I keep it in the same spot, I like it here, you know I like it here, why is it —”

He interrupts himself with a great, heaving hiccup, so large it shakes his whole body, and he’s furious with himself, with his shaking hands, with the careful look on Keith’s face.

This is how it ends.

This is how it ends.

This is how it ends.

“This is not where my brush goes,” he insists again, desperate to keep his voice steady, desperate to make it angry.

“Okay,” Keith says simply. He walks over and pulls the brush gently from Lance’s hands. “Where do you want it?”

Lance tries to breathe in. His chest shakes and shudders, poking holes in his voice. This isn’t working. Why isn’t it working?

“No, you’re supposed to — I’m being unreasonable.”

“You’re upset about something.”

“Something stupid.”

“Okay. I’ll fix it. I can fix it.”

“No, you can’t — I’m not —”

The rest of his strength leaves him.

This is how it ends.

This is how it ends.

Why can’t he make it end.

Slowly, Keith reaches out to grab his hands. Lance lets him, like the coward he is.

“Come to bed, sweetheart. You’ve had a long day. You need to sleep.”

“Okay,” he whispers, defeated, squeezing his eyes shut. He keeps them shut as Keith guides him to the giant bed, as he pulls back the covers, as he crawls in and waits for the sound of the light switch to be flicked off, of the tiny creak of Keith’s weight as he joins him.

For a long moment Keith is quiet. Long enough that Lance would assume he’d fallen asleep, except that he still sits upright, except that his hand has slid under Lance’s shirt, and his thumb traces a line across the small of his back, over and over again.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he whispers.

A new tear slips hot down Lance’s face.

This is how it ends.

He knows, or at least he must suspect. Maybe he realized his mistake some time ago, and has been waiting for Lance to fess up, to explain why he went along with Keith’s mistaken affection in the first place. Why he used Keith, confused as he was, for his own selfish needs.

“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely. He can’t bring himself to turn around, to sit up, to meet Keith’s eyes.

Keith’s hand doesn’t so much as twitch. “What for?”

“For leading you on.”

That certainly gives him pause.

“Leading me…on?”

“Yeah.” Lance sniffles, dragging himself upright and away from Keith’s affectionate hands, huddled against the massive headboard. “You came back…confused. I don’t know. You thought we were in love. I wanted it, so I let you. I’ve been manipulating you.”

“Lance…” Even only in the silvery blue moonlight streaming in from the windows, Keith’s face is unmistakable, obvious; strong brow creased in worry, head tilted in confusion, face pulled with something like desperation. “Lance, we are in love. Aren’t we? I love you. And you love me, I know you do.”

Lance shakes his head. His tears make his face crumple and he knows how ugly that makes him look, so he hides his face.

“No, I made you feel that way, I didn’t correct you back then and it’s habit now so…”

He trails off. Keith doesn’t respond. He wonders if he’ll stay the night, bed surely big enough for him to sleep without touching Lance at all, or if he’ll have to go get a new room.

A tiny, tiny part of Lance’s brain recognises the irony in that and wants him to laugh. But the steady breaking of his heart keeps it at bay.

“…Back at the tarmac,” Keith says what feels like hours later, startling Lance out of his skin. He looks up at the man with wide eyes, having half-convinced himself he was already gone, and Keith meets his gaze determinedly. “Back at the tarmac, you said I was honest. Did you mean that?”

Lance swallows.

“Yes.”

Keith holds his gaze, looking for something, then nods, having found it. “Believe me then, sweetheart.” He crawls forward, slowly, as if he is afraid Lance will startle away from him. That fear is what startles Lance out of his stupor, out of his guilt, out of the dread that has been building in his stomach for months. He hasn’t seen that kind of fear — the fear of getting too close — on Keith face since he came back. And never does he want to see it again. He throws himself into Keith’s arms, too hard, hard enough to hurt, but Keith catches him and holds him and squeezes just as painfully tightly. “I love you, star of my skies.”

“That’s cheesy as hell,” Lance croaks, and Keith laughs, wetly and beautifully. “I love you too.”

“Good.” Keith kisses the top of his head. “Good.” He exhales, long and shuddering; relieved. “God, I spent two years waiting for this exact moment.”

The statement strikes Lance as odd. “This exact moment.”

Keith tenses. Lance tenses, too, and immediately he relaxes again, breathing steadily until Lance matches him.

“On the space whale, time was…stretchy.”

“You mentioned.”

“Two years I lost.”

Lance tightens his hold. “I know.”

“Most of it was survival camping, really, but there were these visions, sometimes. For Krolia and me. Our pasts. You guys, in the present.” He takes a breath. “Our future.”

Somehow, Lance gets the feel he’s not talking about his and Krolia’s.

“Our future?”

Keith’s breath tickles his neck. Lance doesn’t dare move. Goosebumps pimple his skin and he lets them, shivering, warmed.

“Yes. So much, all the time. More than anything else we saw. Just — tiny snippets, here and there; your face when you sleep, your fingers on a bow, you dragging me on a surfboard and a million other places I woulda followed you to anyway.”

One of his hands slides down Lance’s ribs, fingertips light enough to make him shudder, and rests, cupped open at his hip. “I saw this,” he admits. “Not — the whole conversation, or why, but my hands on you, in this bed, in the moonlight. It kept me going.”

Lance closes his eyes and tries to imagine. Stuck in a strange place where days don’t seem to pass with a stranger who claims to be his mother, watching visions of himself in the future, over and over again.

“No wonder your head was all wonky.”

“Yeah.”

“You’d already been with me. For two years.”

“For twenty. Thirty. Seventy.”

“…That’s a long time, Keith.”

“God, I hope so.”

Lance smiles. “You gonna stick with me that long, hotshot?”

“Like glue, darlin’.”

Lance looks up and, sure enough, Keith’s eyes are closed, face slack. He’s clinging onto consciousness with every bit of strength in his body, things like keeping his accent in check losing priority. Lance settles again against him, guiding them gently so they lie comfortably against the pillows, and breathes out, slow and long.

“Tell me about our future.”

“House on th’beach,” Keith murmurs. His words are slow and pulled apart. “Stone’s throw from your mama’s.”

Lance traces sleepy circles on his skin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Little boy with hair like yours followin’ every little thing you do.”

His breath hitches. He hadn’t thought about that — hadn’t let himself think about it. It’s dangerous, for more than one reason.

But tonight they’re safe. Under the silvery moonlight, with a bed three times bigger than they are, nothing can touch them.

“What about a little girl with your smile?”

“You got it.”

Lance’s smile is warm and giddy, tucked into Keith’s arm, etched there like it’s permanent. “Good. Goodnight, mi alma.”

“Night, baby.”

This is how it stays, forever and ever and always.

[aezuria]

Hear me out.. happy Golden Retriever bf x broody black Cat gf, but it's Jason Grace x daughter of hades reader 👀👀

*ੈ✎ light of my life, where are you?

content: jason grace x daughter of hades! reader

╰┈▸ warnings: none (until the ending oopsie)

librarian's annotations: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ANON AND JUST SKIP THE ENDING IF U DONT WANT ANGST

maybe it was your gloomy disposition, or the fact that you were a daughter of hades, either way, most people avoided you like the plague. you didn't mind it all too much—you were usually one for solitude.

that was until you met jason grace. you disliked him from the start. dislike, not hate, because you couldn't bear to hate the person who always stuck up for your brother. but he was too bright, too overbearing for you. very much not your style.

(that's what they all say at the start)

he was just too good to be true! how could he be all these things everyone claimed him to be? they just had to be exaggerating.

but when he flashed his dazzling smile and tender gaze, you knew that all the rumors were true. even so, you pried your eyes away from him. you would not be wooed by a roman so easily!

jason did not make it easy for you. he followed you around camp like a lost puppy. he tried to be subtle, but his tall form wasn't exactly hard to spot. you went to your cabin? he followed you to the door, claiming he wanted to see nico. you went to the training grounds? he picked up a lance and started examining it a little too hard. when you finally confronted him about it, he just laughed sheepishly and scratched the back of his head, saying, "i was trying to work up the courage to ask you to be friends."

how were you supposed to not like him after that?

despite your lack of romantic endeavors, you were sure that friends didn't do what jason did. he opened the door for you, made sure you ate proper meals—and sure, those acts were pretty "just friends" level. but he also tied your shoes, put flowers in your hair, and hugged you so warmly whenever you were feeling especially down. you felt the unmistakable flutter in your heart whenever he did those things, instead of your initial distaste for him.

your confusion was answered the next evening. you swore nico had muttered something about jason being the only guy (besides him) he'd trust with you, right before telling you to go into the woods. "there's a surprise there," he had explained. "just trust me, okay?"

the sun was starting to set, its rays darting between the leaves and casting a soft glow on the grass. "go to the woods... can he be any more specific?" you muttered, before you caught a familiar head of blond hair in the corner of your eye. you turned and walked towards him, brushing away the branches as you did so.

"y/n!" jason beamed as he caught sight of you entering the clearing. he straightened up and messed with something behind his back. he shifted his feet and pulled out a bouquet, offering it to you shyly. "i asked the dryads what your favorites were. do you like them? did i organize them properly? are these actually not your favorites and they were just lying to me-"

"jason." you cut him off and smiled, taking the bouquet and smelling the freshly picked flowers. "i love them, thank you."

he swore his heart stopped. your smile was the most gorgeous sight he's ever seen. you were like an angel; why was it that no one thought to make you smile more often? he met your content expression with a wide beam of his own.

"really? i'm glad!" jason sighed in relief, before clearing his throat. "um," his voice cracked, face flushing red at that. "i wanted to ask if i could be your boyfriend? i just, you're so sweet and strong, and pretty... anyone would be lucky to be yours. but, i want to be that lucky guy, if you'll let me?" he looked into your eyes so earnestly, there was no other answer but yes.

"you know i love you, right?" jason whispered into your hair. your warmth brought him comfort in his otherwise cold cabin, empty and unfeeling, just like his father's attitude to him.

"uh huh. and i love you too." you mumbled sleepily into his chest. "but do you have to go?"

he laughed softly. "yes, i do." jason combed through your hair, silk between his fingertips. "i'll be back before you know it."

"do you ever think that we don't deserve this?" you whispered, eyes already shut as sleep slowly overtook you. "that we shouldn't have to fight someone else's battles?"

"yeah." jason rested his chin on the top of your head and squeezed you tighter. "sometimes i think that too."

shadows pried your eyes open, then slipped around your heart and squeezed. he was gone. you could feel it. you knew and yet you hoped and prayed that you were wrong. he was supposed to come home later, right? he would.

but the darkness settled in your stomach and weighed you down until morning.

and so you waited and waited, for nico's familiar shadow, or a chariot riding from the sky. what came was the former. you felt the comforting coldness of your brother's appearance, but jason's warmness was nowhere to be held. nico's dark eyes were rimmed with barely kept tears, his shoulders trembling with silent sobs.

"he's gone." your brother's voice was as dead as jason, as final as his last breath.

never had you begged and pleaded to your father so much; never had you needed to. never had you imagined a life without the sun, your sun. never had the ghost of your soul escaped in a pitiful shriek of agony, or became one with the dirt as salty tears.

and you knew, just as you knew death, that a part of you had died with him.

[writeforfandoms]

Homeward Bound 2

Find the series masterlist

Your job as the caretaker is rarely boring, especially around nesting time. Fortunately, you're prepared for almost anything.

Warnings: Swearing, accidental self harm (walking on hot sand), bits of backstory.

Word count: 1k

Your room off the hatching grounds was small, with just the necessities. A simple bed, a small table for some jerky and water, and a small wardrobe. You didn't inhabit this room all the time, thankfully - your normal room was bigger, more spacious. But for the last weeks leading up to the hatching, if you weren't out on the sands, you could be found here. 

You didn't dare go far from the eggs, especially as it got closer to hatching day. It was risky, considering you would only get a few hours’ warning, at best. 

So when someone knocked on your door at some ungodly hour, you woke and rolled out of bed before your brain even had a chance to catch up. You threw on your robe for some semblance of modesty, yanking the door open. 

One of the messenger boys stood in front of your door, hair mussed and cheeks red from his run. “One of the dragons,” he said, one hand waving back the way he'd come. 

You didn't wait for the rest of his message, pushing past him and sprinting down the short hall and to the sands. Hot sand nearly burned the bottoms of your feet, but you paid it no mind. 

It took only a moment to find the dragon in question. A new mother, gray wings spread wide, nearly prancing in distress but somehow never even touching her eggs. 

“Hey, hey, easy,” you soothed, approaching her carefully, hands up. “Easy, beautiful. Calm down and show me what's wrong.” 

She hissed, higher pitched than normal, more nervous than aggressive. But she settled, at least a little, all four feet remaining planted now. 

“Good,” you crooned, taking another couple steps closer. “Now. Show me what's wrong.” 

She hissed again but allowed you close, wings slowly settling against her back again. She stepped back carefully, allowing you to see the nest. 

And the clear crack that ran across the top of one of her eggs. 

“Oh.” Sharp pain lanced clean through your chest. “Oh, beautiful….” Ever so carefully, your fingertips ran across the crack, feeling for moisture. It was possible the internal membrane hadn't torn, in which case you could patch up the egg. Fortunately, that looked to be the case this time. You breathed out slowly, pressing your palm mid-way down the shell to check the temperature. A little cool, but not bad. 

You could make this work. 

“Okay,” you breathed out. “Okay. Your egg is okay.” You looked up at the dragon to make sure she understood, meeting brilliant golden eyes fearlessly. “I'm going to help.” 

She trilled softly, lowering her head to nudge your shoulder very gently. 

“Yes, yes,” you murmured, sparing one hand to pat her snout. “Go get your rider, and a few others if you can. Quickly.” 

She hesitated only a moment, the instinctive pull to remain at her nest strong, before she turned and took off. You didn't watch her go, instead focusing on shoring up the sand around all the eggs. That would help keep them all stable and warm. 

Now to address the crack. 

You didn't want to leave it alone - there was too much potential for things to get in there and cause problems. 

You had all the things you'd need for a kind of paste you could cover the crack with. It would need to be reapplied periodically until the egg hatched, but it would work. 

You spared a brief thought of thanks that your mother had taught you everything about this job. 

The tromp of boots on sand and the trill of the dragon pulled your attention up from the sand. The mother had returned with her rider and two others. Including Simon. 

“Pack more sand around these eggs,” you ordered the three. “All around them. But do not touch the cracked egg. I will be back in three minutes.” 

You stood, frowning thunderously when one of the riders goggled at you, mouth open. “Now,” you snapped.

Simon cuffed the gawking rider before striding off to grab one of the shovels. You turned and ran back to the small storage room off the hatching grounds, full of ingredients for just such a need as this. 

The sand was hot as you carried the bowl back to the egg, reminding you painfully that you were not wearing shoes. You grimaced but pushed through, walking calmly this time. You didn't want to get any sand in the bowl. 

The three riders had made quick work of getting the eggs braced with more sand, Simon still holding the shovel even as he watched you approach, eyes dark. 

“Good,” was all you offered, kneeling carefully next to the cracked egg. Partially to not get more sand around, and partially to make sure your robe stayed covering you. You covered the crack with the paste, carefully going beyond the edges of the crack to be sure nothing could get in. When you checked, the egg was already a little warmer. Very good. 

Sighing softly, you pushed back to your feet. “Very good,” you murmured. “The egg will be fine. Thank you for your help.” You looked at each of the three riders. The one who belonged to the mother dragon actually stepped forward to hug you, something you returned a little awkwardly. 

The mother settled around her eggs again, even more carefully now, crooning softly before she settled her snout right next to the cracked egg. You patted her head, relieved. 

It took until you gathered up the bowl and tugged your robe tighter to realize that Simon was still standing to one side, gaze still fixed on you. You paused, foot scuffing through the sand, eyes blowing wide before you schooled your expression back to neutrality. You nodded to him once and strode back to the storage room, covering the remaining paste with a cloth. It would keep for a while. 

You needed to wash up. 

You paused, just for a moment, at the edge of the sand where the hallway to your room branched off. Simon was standing next to Ilsbet, one hand under her chin, forehead pressed to hers. You turned away from the quiet moment. But not before you smiled.

[iloveboysinred]

I saw your headcanons for Keith and I thought it was really interesting! I was just wondering if you’re ok with doing one for Lance? If not that’s fine 👍🏼

Hi anon, i absolutely can!! Thank you for your ask 💕 i’m assuming you want them to be nsfw, so please forgive me or send another ask if otherwise! :)

Cw; sexually explicit content, 18+, mdni! Nsfw under the gif

Masterlist

- You and Lance have always been touchy with each other, even before you started dating. He’s always flirted with you and made suggestive comments, but you’ve always just brushed it off as Lance being Lance.

- like i said in Keith’s hcs, it took a while for you and Lance to adjust to the whole “launched into a space war out of nowhere on a giant blue robot lion” thing. But it didnt take him much time to get over the initial shock and then being all over you.

- in fact, the stress of it all made him much needier. Frequent visits to your room or yours to his to “de-stress” if thats what you wanna call it 😏

- It doesn’t take much to turn Lance on. When you bend over in that tight space suit, the skin-tight fabric hugging the curve of your ass just right, or when you walk around the castle with your hair messed up, wearing his shirt and a flimsy pair of sleep shorts after waking up from a nap. It drives him crazy, and suddenly he cant keep his hands to himself.

-He makes it quick, bringing you to his room and pressing you against the wall with his body, his tongue down your throat, his hands hungrily wander up and down your body, and his hips desperately rock against you. You can feel his hard on against your leg, reaching down to palm him, and he just about cums in his underwear from the contact.

- When you give Lance head, he can’t keep still. He’s super sensitive so his hips are always jerking around with every movement that you make. He’s whining and gasping your name, running his fingers through your hair to ground himself.

- If you let him fuck your throat, his hips stutter with every thrust, and his breaths are labored. Trying with all his might to stop himself from spilling deep into your throat.

- he always wants to return the favor, praising you and sputtering nonsense while he eats you out. He’ll be reaching down to palm himself while you come undone above him, wanting to sooth the ache in his length.

- There’s basically hearts in his eyes when you cum in his mouth. He moans as he cleans you up, his tip drooling with pre-cum, making a mess in his hands.

- When he fucks you he’s fast and breathless. Chanting your name like a prayer as he fucks into you. He’s very and i mean verrrry vocal during sex, not scared to tell you exactly how good you’re making him feel.

- “ohh fuck y/n, you’re so tight, oh shit”, “make me cum baby, please!” “Throw that ass back baby, Asi” “you make me feel so fucking good baby, i love you”

- as a spanish speaker, i can definitely tell you he’ll be muttering curses mindlessly, his brain is so fuzzy he doesn’t even process what he’s saying.

- when he cums he’s holding your hips flush to his, making sure you take every drop he has to offer.

- You and Lance love teasing each other, making it a challenge to get the other one as worked up as possible.

- you’ll sit on his lap, or brush your hand over his crotch. He’ll sneak a handful of your ass, or whisper filthy “compliments” in your ear, then go back to acting like normal. You match each other’s energy in every way.

- sex with Lance is always fun and adventurous. When you’re not desperately needy for each other you take your time. Giggling between kisses, cracking corny jokes.

- he’s always willing to try something new with you as long as its nothing painful or disgusting.

- new positions? He’s in. Trying different kinks? You don’t even have to ask. Even bringing toys into the bedroom occasionally just to add a little excitement.

- Lance takes you anywhere, in the kitchen, in the showers, sometimes you even get down in the blue lion’s cockpit. You guys just can’t get enough of each other.

- On days where you’re especially homesick, you’ll have soft, cuddly sex with Lance. He’ll caress your skin with featherlight kisses, hugging you close to his body as he gives you slow, deep strokes from the side.

-you’ll try to squeeze in morning sex here and there, especially if its been busy and you barley have time to relax. You’ll be clumsy and fumbling around, giggling at Lance’s half sleep attempt to enter you.

- He 100% loves when you wake him up to some head (agreeing to it beforehand)

- overall you and lance keep the whole castle awake with your shenanigans. Especially poor hunk, who’s room is right next to yours.

Hope you enjoy anon 💕thanks again for your ask. :> Notes and reblogs are appreciated, comments, asks and submissions are welcomed!

[scaredpigeons]

More than some stress relief

Blade x Stelle NSFW 18+ MDNI

CW: Stelle asks Blade to spar with her, and unfortunately that results in some unresolved sexual frustration, because c’mon, he’s still a whole ass man. Luckily, mama Kafka steps in to lend a helping hand. (Not her literal hand, she just buys the toy lol) phone sex, mutual masturbation? The fleshlight blade uses is connected to Stelle through the (magical) necklace that was part of the set. (Magical) creampie.

WARNING: Blade is very violent in his descriptions of how he threatens to bone Stelle. If you’re uncomfortable with him saying things along the lines of: —until the carnage is unrecognizable, —until you’re nothing but hot pulp running through my fingers (just to paraphrase loool) please do not read this. Blade is a very broken man, I was really trying to play off his more violent tendencies with this one. Stelle is so fuckin down bad tho (relatable)

If you are 18+, comfortable with some gory descriptors, and willing to read, please continue! Enjoy.

——————————

🐺👾: you want to…. Spar with blade? Are you a masochist or something? Should I be concerned? 

🦝🗑️: shut up 

🦝🗑️: I have this crazy lance and I don’t really want to hurt anyone by practicing with it 

🦝🗑️: I know he’s got that healing thing going on 

🐺👾: 👀 …. 

🐺👾: I’m telling him you called it that 

🦝🗑️: DONT U DARE 

🦝🗑️: JUST PLEASE ASK THE MAN IF HE CAN SPAR WITH ME WITHOUT KILLING ME 

🦝🗑️: AND DON'T TELL HIM IT'S ONLY BECAUSE HES WEIRDLY INDESTRUCTIBLE 

🦝🗑️: I don’t wanna like, offend him or anything. Obvi I don’t want him to get hurt, but like, the off chance I slip up with this thing… he isn’t gonna get murked. You know? 

🐺👾: okay okay I get it, I’ll ask 

🦝🗑️: 😩🩶🩶💯🔥

🐺👾: he agreed. Here’s the coordinates. Have fun, don’t die. 

————

“Thank you for agreeing to this, I really appreciate it!” 

The man in front of Stelle says nothing, only stares as the winds coming off the water pick up loose strands of his hair, making the inky strands flow behind him. 

“You… remember me, right?” Stelle tentatively asks. 

Still nothing. 

“It’s okay if you don’t, we don’t even have to go through with this, I just thought you would be the best person for what I’m—“ 

“I remember you, Trailblazer. My mind is not so far eroded that I’d forget you so easily.” 

His voice is dark, just as raspy as she remembers it. She has to clench her teeth to suppress a shudder. If March could hear her thoughts, she’d blush and squeal, smacking her arm in scandal. If Dan Heng could hear her thoughts… he’d institutionalize her immediately. 

This man is dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. Stelle had to lie about where she was going just so no one would try to talk her out of it. 

Danger always pulled at something inside her though, that nasty, deranged thing inside her that craved violence and adrenaline. She figured it was a side effect of hosting a stellaron inside her body, but man— did this guy make her wish she could have something else inside her body too.

 *Wink wink*

Aeons. She’s such a fucking simp. If it wouldn’t make her look bat shit insane, she’d smack herself right now just to get her shit together. 

“Oh…” she said instead. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

An awkward pause lingered between them, and she found herself thinking that maybe she was standing a bit too close to him, despite there being at least two feet between them. 

“Are you… doing well? The last time I saw you, Kafka was… helping you feel better.” She said hesitantly. 

It could’ve been her imagination, but she swore that the furrow of his brow softened ever so slightly. 

“We’re not here to discuss such trivial matters.” His voice was harsh nonetheless. 

“Right, right.” Stelle said, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly. “So, how do we do this?” 

Blade summoned his sword, dragging his fingertips across the edge before spreading the tainted blood across the flat of it, causing the cracked blade to glow and radiate with unnatural power. 

“It is not your time or place to die here, so luckily for you, I will show restraint.” 

—————

Stelle could tell Blade was holding back, true to his word. 

Any flames she created were either quelled by his winds, or overfanned by his elemental power to the point that they grew too dangerous for the environment around them, or even Stelle herself. 

She found that with her control over the lance, she could call forth and dissipate her fires at will, so the damage to herself was minimal. 

She worried that if the flames grew too large, she’d lose control over them— but every time, she willed them away and they would flicker out, leaving charred shrubbery and stone in their wake. 

Didn’t mean they weren’t hot as shit though.  

The first time she’d used the lance, the freezing temperatures of Jarilo XI dulled just how hot her new weapon could become. 

But now, well she couldn’t tell if her sweat was from the flames or just how hard her opponent was pushing her. 

He was toying with her, clashing together brutally before jumping away and circling her like a hawk. 

He was resistant to her taunts, though keeping up with him left little room for her to pause long enough to think of something to say. 

He seemed completely at ease though, the violence in his eyes and the murderous grin doing nothing to help the degenerate part of her brain that was screaming and crying and throwing up at the opportunity to observe him like this up close, without Dan Heng around to make her feel guilty for admiring this man so much. 

Her arms grew heavy, and she’d not even made him sweat, let alone injure him in any way. 

She knew that the lack of true danger was causing her to remain at a reasonable power level, flash backs to the Herta space station incident making her shudder. 

She was really no match for him in this kind of situation. 

He lunged for her again, and this time, she was too tired to react properly. She parried his strike, but missed the signs of his next move, getting her feet swiped out from beneath her as he tackled her to the ground. His sword stabbed into the dirt just beside her head as he landed on top of her, effectively straddling her as he pinned her with his intense gaze. 

Her eyes flitted back and forth between his as her breath heaved in her chest, her heart racing as she struggled to right herself after being disoriented so badly. 

Something in his expression shifted, and instead of murderous amusement, his gaze seemed… hungry. 

He leaned closer, ever so slowly, and continued staring at Stelle so intently it made her do something so embarrassing she knew she would never live it down. 

She whimpered. 

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he was gone. 

He pulled away from her and disappeared within the same breath, leaving her lying there in the dirt as she caught her breath. 

She ran her hands over her face. “Well fuck.” 

—————

🐺👾: what did you do to him? 

🦝🗑️: ??????? 

🐺👾: last week. When the two of you sparred, did something happen? 

🦝🗑️: ….

🦝🗑️: why 

🐺👾: ever since he got back he’s been fucking pouting. 

🐺👾: well, I mean pouting in the way that blade does. It’s more of a scowl than anything else, but I’ve known him long enough to differentiate between his various types of frowns. 

🦝🗑️: … nothing happened. We fought. I lost, obviously. But no one was hurt or anything. 🙃 everything’s totally normal 

🐺👾 added Kafka🕷️💕 to the chat

🐺👾: Kafka, what’s she hiding? 

Kafka🕷️💕: some sexual tension, most likely. 

🦝🗑️: …. -_- 

🦝🗑️: mother, why hast thou forsaken me????

 Kafka🕷️💕: nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetie. 

Kafka🕷️💕: Bladie may be a tragic creation of the abundance, but his body was once human. It wouldn’t be a far stretch to say that some of the more… human tendencies of a man may still linger within him. 

🐺👾: F

🦝🗑️: F 

🐺👾: so you’re saying he’s pouting and kicking shit because he’s sexually frustrated? That’s fuckin nasty. 

🐺👾: @🦝🗑️ you need to fix this. I don’t wanna look at him sulk anymore 

🦝🗑️: me?!!?!? Tf am I supposed to do??? How is this my fault??? 

🐺👾: you fought him and now he’s horny. Fix it. 

🦝🗑️: … bruh 

Kafka🕷️💕: I don’t think the traditional way of solving this problem will be the best idea, silver wolf. 🤭

🐺👾: wym? 🤨

Kafka🕷️💕: I don’t think it’s safe right now for our little trailblazer and Bladie to get together on a more intimate level… he’s still a bit unstable mentally. 

🦝🗑️: you let me fight this man while hES UNSTABLE 

🐺👾: heh. L 

Kafka🕷️💕: fighting is what he knows. It’s what comes natural to him these days. Emotions? Not so much. 

🦝🗑️: I mean… I’m always down to help anyone whenever I can

🐺👾: *tucks hair behind ear* “i’M aLwAys DoWn tO HeLP aNyONe WHeNeVEr I cAn”

🦝🗑️: BRO FIGHT ME 

🐺👾: no thanks, I have better ways to waste my time 

🦝🗑️: ENGAGE ME IN A BATTLE OF FISTICUFFS RN 

🦝🗑️: IM ALWAYS DOWN TO HELP BUT USUALLY I GET NICE REWARDS TOO 

🐺👾: heh… you want a nice reward for this one too? 

🦝🗑️: I STTA ILL COME FIND UR LITTLE HOLOGRAM AND SMACK THE SHIT OUTTA YOU 

🐺👾: wtf does stta stand for you heathen 

Kafka🕷️💕: ooh! She’s used this one with me before. It’s “swear to the aeons.” Cute, right? 

🐺👾: 🙄 

🐺👾 has left the chat

Kafka🕷️💕: I think I have an idea on how you can help, if you’re open to it. 

🦝🗑️: …

🦝🗑️: what do I need to do? 

———

“Stelle sweetie!” Himeko knocked on her cabin door. “You have a package here.”

Stelle nearly slipped as her sock feet slid along the smooth floor of her room in her haste to reach the door. 

She tumbled along gracelessly and threw open her door, huffing as she took the package from Himeko. 

A box, about five hands wide and three hands deep, wrapped in plain brown paper, with a little card tapped on and slathered with all the necessary postage. 

“Thank you!” Stelle said hastily, reaching for her door. 

“Wait—“ Himeko put a hand to the door shaft, stepping forward a bit with worry in her eyes. 

Stelle cringed a bit, looking up at Himeko and trying to hide the shame she felt creeping up the back of her neck. 

“Listen,” Himeko started, eyeing the little card on the package with Stelles name written in pretty, looping letters. “I know you and that stellaron hunter have some strange connection that we aren’t sure about, and I know you’re unsure too, but I just want you to be careful, okay?” 

It took a solid two panicked seconds for Stelle to realize that Himeko was speaking about Kafka, and not the other stellaron hunter she’d so guilty formed a connection with recently. 

When the realization dawned on her, she tucked her package to the side and pulled Himeko into a tender side hug, snuggling into her chest a bit as she usually did. 

“Thank you for worrying about me, Himeko.” Stelle said, pulling away. “It means a lot to me, and I promise I’m being careful. I won’t do anything to jeopardize the safety of anyone on the express.” 

Himeko sighed, smiling as she pulled back too. “I know, I just worry about you. We’re all here to support you through this, you know that.” 

Stelle grinned. “I do, thank you.” 

The red haired woman nodded, smiling still as she said her goodbyes and left Stelle to her own devices. 

She’d never closed and locked her door so quickly before. 

Throwing the package on her bed, she hastily sat beside it and pulled the card from the packaging. 

She took a moment to trace her fingers over the pretty script on the card, before she tore open the envelope and read its contents. 

Stelle, 

Inside this box you’ll find the fun toy I told you about, along with a new shipping label to send it off to Bladie. 

I’m off on my own right now, far away from him, and I figured he’d handle it a lot better if it came from you, and not me. hehe~ 

Also, you’ll find a beautiful little necklace I had added to the set, that’s for you to wear. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time with it. 

Thinking fondly of you always, 

K 

Stelle blushed a little, Kafka was always saying the strangest things. She tucked the card away in her nightstand and gently pried open the package, not wanting to tear the postage stamps. 

Inside was indeed the… thing that she was told about, and she blushed furiously while looking at the nondescript white box, though the size and shape was very indicative of what was inside.

She pulled the new shipping label out, looking at the address inquisitively and realizing she had no idea where Blade even was, not recognizing the planet. 

She sat it aside and pulled out the other small box inside, opening it up and finding a rather beautiful blue choker necklace. The colour was reminiscent of her garter, and she smiled, happily pulling the gift from its box and wrapping it around her slender throat. 

It clicked nicely in the back, and fit perfectly. She smiled, patting it and thinking about how it was such a thoughtful gift, however strangely unrelated. Then again Kafka was a bit of an enigma regardless, so who knows what her thought process was when putting these two together. 

Stelle closed up the box, slapping the new shipping label over the old one and eyeing it as it sat in the middle of her bed. 

Fuck, I should probably write him a letter, some kind of explination so he doesn’t just throw it away without opening it. 

She scurried to her desk, pulling out a very cutesy animal themed stationary set that March had gifted her after their mission on Jarilo XI. 

The envelopes and cards were soft blue, covered in cute little bunnies and bears and what Stelle thinks are pink raccoons, surrounded with hearts and little stars. 

She laughed at the idea of Blade handling such delicate paper, and got to writing a quick note on her desk.

Hey, 

Don’t hate me, but SW was complaining about your… mood lately, and I thought this might help. I totally fuckin get it, trust me, I understand. Traveling with a group of people that’s more like family than anything else can really put a damper on your… personal time. So please take time for yourself, if not for me, then to at least make silver wolf stop complaining to me that you’re moody. 

I look forward to the day you’ll spar with me again. 

-Stelle 

It might’ve been doing a bit too much, but Stelle couldn’t help but feel like the note might help him to be more receptive to the gift. 

Being a bit delusional never stopped her before, so why should it now? 

She slid the card in the envelope and slapped it to the package, picking it up to go and have it delivered. Hopefully she could feel a bit more at peace once it was gone. 

—————

A quick and impatient knock sounded on his room door, pulling him from his deep meditation on the floor. 

“Hey asshole, you’ve got a package.” 

He and Silver Wolf were sent together to fulfill one of Elio’s scripts, and it was a brief period of lull in their respective duties. 

The inn they were staying at wasn’t lavish by any means, but they were discreet, and that’s really all they could hope for. 

Blade released a breath through his nose as he rose from the floor, walking over and opening up his room to find his fellow hunter standing impatiently, tapping her foot on the rough carpet of the hallway. 

Blade hated carpet in the hallways of inns. Always disgusting and ridiculously coloured. 

“Here.” Silver Wolf shoved the box in his hands, her grin was wide, spreading to her eyes which twinkled up at him with the mischief he tried so desperately to avoid. 

“Who could possibly know where we are right now.” He grumbled at her, though she was already turning to leave. 

“I have an inkling, and hopefully the stick falls out of your ass soon.” She laughed maniacally as she waltzed down the hall. “Enjoy!” 

Blade felt his brow scrunch up tight as he eyed the package. The blue envelope tapped into it was terrible to look at, the childish print making him want to throw it away immediately, but the unfamiliar lettering spelling his name across the paper made him pause. 

He brought the package to his bed, sitting down and thumbing open the envelope. 

The contents of the card made his stomach drop and then lurch into his throat. He was ready to run silver wolf through with his sword. 

Calm yourself. 

He took steady breaths, though he was angry, he was also rather curious about what exactly was in the box. 

With a carefulness he didn’t remember he had, he pried open the package to find a smaller white box without any words or indicators of what could be inside. 

He lifted the lid, only to drop it in shock at what lurked within. He knew what that was. He was older than most but he was still a man, and he knew exactly what had been sent to him— what was to help his “mood.” 

He sighed, pinching his temples. He didn’t know whether he wanted to thank silver wolf or strangle her. Either way, he’d be getting some kind of relief today. 

———————

Stelle was eating dinner when she felt the first phantom touch. 

Fingertips, as soft as a whisper, ghosting over her pubic mound and making her stomach dip. 

Her eyes darted around, but everyone else was still enjoying their meal, chatting quietly together with the melody of silverware accompanying their voices. 

She was sat beside Dan Heng tonight, but both of his hands were above the table. 

She leaned back to look at him below the waist, looking to see if he’d manifested his tail and was making a pass at her, or more likely, was absentmindedly flicking it about like he did whenever he took his secondary form. 

But no, he was tailless this evening, and now eyeing her a bit warily as her eyes darted around. 

“You okay?” He murmured, not wanting to bother the others. 

The touch ghosted along her outer labia now, making her drop her fork in shock. 

Everyone was looking at her now, and she felt something pulse around her throat, right where her new necklace rested. 

Her face heated, and she placed her utensils onto her half finished plate before scooting from behind the table. 

“I’m… not feeling the greatest. I think I’m gonna go to bed early, if you all don’t mind.” 

She stood quickly, standing there for a moment as the touches continued, soft and inquisitive. 

“Are you alright?” Welt asked, concerned. “Would you like me to bring you some tea, or medicine?” 

“No!” Stelle jumped, before she caught herself and smiled sheepishly. “I’m alright, just feeling a little off. Probably just need some good sleep. I’ll see you all in the morning?” 

They all nodded, watching her go with worried eyes, but letting her leave without more questioning, which she was so grateful for. 

As soon as she made it to her room, she felt the first touch swipe through her core, and she nearly keened. 

Her throat pulsed, the necklace weakly glowing in the dark of her room. 

Her body felt hot. She was embarrassed at the amount of wetness that was pooling in her underwear, but most importantly, she was so fucking confused at what was going on. 

Something wet and blunt prodded at her entrance, and her knees buckled as she locked her door. 

She nearly crawled to her bed as her choker pulsed and pulsed with a weak glow, and the blunt thing, which felt suspiciously like a pair of fingers, finally slipped inside her, curiously prodding around, as if feeling her out. 

She slapped a hand over her mouth as she squeezed around the phantom digits, their touch lingering at her g spot with ridiculous precision. The fingers withdrew and she breathed a sigh of relief, though it was short lived as something much, much larger prodded itself at her entrance. 

Her eyes widened, and she scrambled to pull Kafkas card from her bedside drawer. 

“you’ll find a beautiful little necklace I had added to the set, that’s for you to wear. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time with it. “

Stelle hadn’t realized what those words meant at the time, but as the blunt head of a ridiculously sized phallic object pushed at her hole, the meaning slapped her in the face like a rouge automaton. 

Her back arched off the bed as the phantom cock pushed into her, and she choked on a moan as it buried itself deep within her. She was so ridiculously wet she wanted to cry, and knowing who was on the other end of this feeling made her eyes roll back into her head. 

The thrusts started slow, but slowly worked their way up to something more intense, almost violent. Her insides churned, and she felt the telltale signs of an orgasm building up so quickly she might scream. 

No, no no no. She scrambled, reaching for the necklace, but when her fingers reached the latch, the thrusts changed angles, pounding directly into her g-spot and she cussed into the dark of her room. 

Her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, crashing into her and seeping deep into her bones. It was the first actually satisfying orgasm she’d had in an incredibly long time. 

Her fingertips shook as they lingered on the necklace a moment, before she threw them back to her sheets, gripping them tightly as the thrusts continued. 

Fuck, this feels too good.

Through the post orgasm fog, she wondered if he knew. 

Did he know it was connected to her? 

She suddenly felt overcome with guilt. If he didn’t know, this felt a little like taking advantage of his struggles. If he did know, then she wanted to hear him say it out loud, that he knew exactly what he was doing to her. 

She wanted him to hear exactly what he was doing to her. 

With shaking hands and twitching thighs, she slapped around her bed for her phone, biting her lip through the pleasure to scroll through her contacts. 

It was nearly at the bottom, and the last time it was used was a hack of Silver Wolf’s, and Kafkas words, not his own. But she had to try regardless. 

She clicked the call button, bringing her phone to her ear as she bit back moans. 

Suddenly, the thrusting within her stopped, though the phantom cock remained buried within her. 

She gasped as the ringing came to a halt as the line picked up.

There was no answer, though she swore she could hear his breathing, just a bit heavier than usual. 

“Don’t… don’t stop.” She whispered. 

She thought she heard his breath catch in his throat. She definitely heard the swallow before he spoke. 

“What are you talking about.” His gravelly voice reverberated through the phone, and she felt the cock inside her move ever so slowly, in and out. 

She bit her lip. “I didn’t know at first, I swear.” Her thoughts were scrambled as the soft thrusts continued, and the knowledge that he was actively fucking himself with the toy while she spoke make her stomach jump in pleasure. 

“You didn’t know what?” He said, voice low and nearly at a whisper. 

“It’s… we’re… we’re connected.” 

The toy stopped, and she sucked in a breath of relief, hoping to gather her thoughts so she could properly explain herself. 

Suddenly a moan was ripped from her chest as his cock thrust into the toy with vigor, and his intense pace was picked back up tenfold. 

She tried to hide it, but the damage was done, and if he didn’t know before, he certainly did now as he listened to her whine and whimper through the phone. 

“I thought the inside felt far too realistic.” He growled. “You’re squeezing me so tight, little Nameless.” 

She gasped, his voice along with the stimulation was far too much, and another orgasm was quickly approaching. 

She tried to play it off like she wasn’t being fucked within an inch of her life though. 

“Yeah well, it’s… been a while since I’ve gotten any action, s-so forgive me for being a little tense.” She stammered. 

He switched his thrusts to hard and deep, so hard Stelle could nearly feel the sensation of his hips hitting hers, and she’s almost positive the fat of her lower half would be rippling in the recoil if he were actually here. 

“I knew as soon as I saw you that you were just a needy hole begging to be filled.” Blade said, voice deep and oh so condescending. 

Stelle fisted the sheets, her eyes nearly rolling into her skull as her needy moans slipped through clenched teeth. He was right, he was so right— but that didn’t mean she needed to concede so easily. 

“That’s bold talk…” she hissed, biting her lips until they felt raw. “…For someone who literally ran away from m-me as soon as his blood traveled south.”  

His dark laugh made her squeeze around him, and she knew he could feel it because the laugh trickled off into a deep groan that set her face on fire. She felt like her fingertips were alight with electricity, like her body was attempting to defy the artificial gravity on the express as she arched off her sheets. 

The pounding within her never faltered as he continued speaking his vile, filthy words at her. 

“You’re lucky I did, little Nameless.” She could almost imagine his murderous grin, the violence that vibrated through his voice was astounding. “If I had stayed I would have fucked you until not even your beloved crew would have been able to recognize the carnage I’d left behind.”

She couldn’t stop the noise that flew from her throat, a guttural keening that had her gripping her cellphone in embarrassment as he laughed once more. 

“Oh?” He teased, voice edged with gravel and venom. “You must be desperate to enjoy the idea of me fucking you until you’re nothing but hot pulp slipping through my fucking fingers.”

Oh she was so desperate, so fucked. If anyone else had said something so absolutely horrifying, she’d have run far, far away. 

“Does the rest of the express crew know how fucking depraved you are?” His thrusts seemed to pick up speed, which would’ve seemed nearly impossible, except she couldn’t exactly think at the moment, only sob as they slammed against that spot inside her over and over again until she felt herself slipping slowly. 

“Do they know that their precious little star wants to be fucked by a monster?” He snarled, and she cried out into the soft light of her room, thrashing around as her orgasm teased its way at her— but she was holding it back, why, why?

“Please,” she gasped. “Please, can I—“ oh, she thought distantly. Oh I’m so fucked up. 

Blade groaned, the slick sounds of him thrusting into the toy ringing in her ear. “So desperate, so polite. You really are something else.”

She keened, arching her back as the feeling licked at her further, so close to toppling over the edge.

“Go on then,” Blade whispered darkly. “Cum for me.” 

It crashed over her, more powerful than anything she could remember feeling. It pulsed through her in quick waves, so strong and violent as he just kept going. 

It started to dance into sickly sweet overstimulation as she heard his breath quicken, and she steadied her breath, wanting to savor this moment. 

“You know,” she breathed. “I’m a lot tougher than you think.”

His breath stuttered, his pace faltering ever so slightly. 

“I could take it,” she whispered. “I don’t think you’d hurt me in any way I didn’t want you to.” 

He faltered, and she heard him cuss under his breath through the phone.

“Yeah?” He whispered. “You’d take what I give you?”

She nodded at her ceiling, knowing he couldn’t see her, but her mind was too foggy with brutal pleasure to think straight. He was undoing her. 

“Every disgusting, violent, nasty thing you’d give me Blade,” she said, clutching the sheets as tears welled behind her eyes, praying he was almost finished but simultaneously never wanting it to end. “I’d take it so well for you, and I’d thank you for it.” 

“Fuck.” Blade moaned, deep and guttural, and his thrusting seized inside her. Much to her shock, she could feel the warmth of him filling her up, pump and after pump of him coating her insides. 

They both lay there, staring at their ceilings and breathing heavily over the phone, not speaking but not really wanting to anyways. 

Finally, once the breath returned to her lungs unlaboured, she felt him pull himself from the toy. 

She felt like she’d been hollowed out, like a crater had been formed where her insides should be, and without him there plugging her up—-her guts would fall out and she’d be left empty. 

He made a confused noise, and just as he did she felt the telltale squelch of cum slipping from her still twitching insides, and she groaned in frustration. 

“Well then,” he chuckled, softer now than before— almost a forbidden sound. “That makes cleaning up easier for me.” 

She smacked her hand over her face. “This is the weirdest toy ever invented, and I'm going to cry the next time I have to face Kafka.” 

“I figured this had something to do with her,” he said, shuffling noises heard from his end of the line. “She can never stay out of my business for too terribly long, unfortunately.” 

“Mine too it seems.” Stelle sighed. She smiled when he made a neutral sound of agreement. 

“You sound like you’re in a better mood.” She said, uncaring of the consequences.

“Well, before I realized what this really was, I was just hoping to release some inconvenient pent up energy.” He said, voice flat. “But I suppose doing it this way has added benefits. I’m no fool, I understand how the human brain works.”

“So this… helped you?” Stelle asked tentatively. 

He sighed. “I’d be lying if I said it was entirely useless.” 

Stelle smiled, stroking the choker around her throat, the delicate glow now completely faded. 

“I’ll keep my end of the connection on, it's simple enough. Just call me next time, okay? I don’t need to embarrass myself at dinner again.”

“I make no such promises.” She thought she heard the faintest of smiles in that last sentence before the line went dead.  

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Reader: A lick of Flame

Summary: reader is from Autumn, gifted with flame. You get into an argument and have to blow off steam, only to witness the shadows crack.

Warnings: Azzie having a ptsd moment, angst, throwing up

A/N: kind of curious about this dynamic? So this is basically a small test run to see how it works? What I can do with it?

“What did you say?”

“You’re deaf as well as blind?”

You snarl at the male, prowling closer, flame licking up your spine, begging to be unleashed upon him. “My High Lord has protected his people well, has already brought his court further that any of us had even hoped. Do not stand before me and think you can slander him.”

“Eris is a manipulative monster who delights in the suffering of others,” Azriel growls back, memories of find Mor, bloodied and pallid, discarded uselessly.

“And as the Spymaster of the Night Court, with your torturous ways, you believe you are entitled to pass judgement upon him?” You snarl, sparks skittering across your skin a heat burns across your chest. “I take no pleasure in my methods,” he growls, wings flaring slowly in threat, “while your High Lord would sit back and allow a female to bleed out upon his boarders as if she’s a plague to his land.”

The flame catches, licking up your arms as it explodes from your body, coating you in fiery armour. Searing rage erupts at his outlandish assumptions about the High Lord who has shown great care for his new kingdom, who has enabled your rising from the ashes and so many other alike. “You know nothing about my High Lord.”

The shadowsinger flinches as incandescent flame lights the room, burning at the air. He feels the searing sting as it lances up his arms from his hands, the memories pouring out, dousing him in oil as the childhood fire burns. The laughter surrounds him, the figures of his long since tortured half-sibling looming over him as they enjoy the heat that scarred his hands, searing until bone shone through.

“Do not insult my High Lord when he could reduce you to cinders.”

You watch, pleased, as he stumbles back into the furniture, eyes wide, lips parted, his hands recoil as if your fire will truly burn him. As if you’re a threat. You’re pleased he’s acknowledging it, for once. But then you note the agony dancing in his gaze, how his eyes are watching outward but he’s centred inside. You note the tremors to his hands, the sheen of sweat to his skin as it takes on a more sallow complexion.

The flame douses itself, flickering to an ember before it vanishes. You walk closer to him, concern rising within you. Your eyes settle on his trembling hands, observing the twisted flesh, how it melts into him. Burn scars, you realise. Fuck. You hadn’t meant to—

Shit.

“Azriel,” you breathe, moving closer. His wings are shuddering, attempting to tuck into themselves. As if to make himself disappear. His shadows are spasming around his powerful form as you shift forward, close enough to touch him. “Azriel,” you murmur, tone harsher as you try to bring him out of whatever nightmare he’s sunk into.

The second your hand settles on his shoulder, his conscious slams back into him, muscles screaming at him to defend against a past threat. He’s stronger now. He can fight back. And he does.

The Shadowsinger surges upright, catching you off guard, his shadows snatching your legs out from under you as his hands shove at your shoulders. You end up being slammed into the floor, the breath being knocked from your lungs at the sheer force of impact, skull cracking against the ground. Your mouth drops open as your vision swirls, going from black to white to glowing technicolour as pain explodes behind your eyelids.

A cold blade of steel slices against your throat as he pins you to the ground, lip curled back from his teeth, baring them. In the back of your mind, you’re aware of the upturned table, the vase shattered on the floor, flowers strewn across the paprika coloured rug.

Your eyes go wide as your hand flies to his, your free arm turning so the blade cuts into the side bone of your forearm, just below your wrist. You suck in air through your teeth at the pain, the icy burn of steel. “Azriel,” you hiss, muscles trembling as he presses the blade into your skin, drawing blood. “Azriel! I’m sorry!” Hot liquid traces a path down the side of your throat as you attempt to shrink into the ground. “I didn’t mean to—”

The words are cut from your mouth as he presses harder. Another move and he’ll slice your neck open. You’ll be dead in seconds. Left with no other choice, you summon your flame again, reforging the steel until it glows with blistering white pain. He snarls as the heat reaches his hands, recoiling from the melted steel as it burns against the soft flesh of your neck, before it’s tossed aside.

You slam your foot into his stomach, sending him flying back to the chair he’d pushed over in his attack. Frantic, gasping for air, you scramble back until you’re pressed against the wall, staring at him horrified, anticipating his next move.

Heavy breathing fills the burning air, the scent of charred flesh weaving through the room. You watch, shocked, as the male twists to the side, enough time to hide before you hear the sound of retching, upturning the contents of his stomach before his shadows spin to the windows, allowing cold air to crash into the heated room.

You swallow, your own hands trembling as you watch through terror-dilated pupils. His wings are trembling, violent shudders passing through him, and in the back of your mind you know he’s not okay. His breathing is a frenetic panic, sharp and quick inhales dizzying his mind as sweat beads on his forehead.

“Azriel…?” You whisper, lips shaking from adrenaline as it pounds through your body. He doesn’t reply, keeping his head turned away but the rise and fall of his wings is a dead giveaway. Before you know what you’re doing, your onto your hands and knees, hurriedly stumbling across the floor until you reach him.

Something screams at you not to touch him after last time, but you push it down, hands setting softly but firmly on his broad shoulders, turning him so his wings press into the upturned chair. You’re kneeling between his legs, hands moving to cup his jaw as you tilt his face to you. A sharp breath of air sucks between your teeth as your eyes lock with his. They’re wet, widened with terror.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, thumb brushing saliva from his lower lip, “you’re okay.” His hands manage to drag themselves to settle on his empty stomach, muscles spasming. His scent is drenched in fear, awash with terror as you continue to swipe your thumb in soothing gestures beneath his mouth. “I’m sorry,” you breathe, staring into his wide eyes, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—” you breath catches as your eyes drop to his hands, heart twisting as he makes to pull them behind his back.

Without thinking, your hands drop to his, fingers linking with his own scarred set. He tenses, making to pull away but you hold firm. Part of you aches as he makes a strained sound in his throat. It sounds like a whimper. Your heart catches. You don’t even know if you’re doing the right thing, holding his hands. What if you’re simply inflicting more damage, adding to the scars?

“Do you want me to let go?” You whisper, eyes latching onto his, the rise and fall of his chest evening out. The male just stares up at you, shock tearing apart in his gaze. “Azriel?” You repeat, leaning slightly closer, “do you want me to stop?” His eyelids flicker as he takes in your words.

“Stop.” It’s hardly a breath, but you hear it. Your fingers unlink with his and he sucks in air between his teeth. “No…” He sounds pained, anguish coating his tongue, eyes skittishly dancing around the room until they land on you again. Concern for your own well-fare rises again. He’s not in his right mind at the moment. He nearly killed you.

Slowly, you shift onto your legs, attempting to put some distance between you as his wings tremor. Something silver catches your eye as it falls, landing in his lap. You meet his gaze. “Stop it.” They’re so small, words uttered so softly they could have been mistaken for reverent. He lifts his hands to his face, shielding himself from your wide-eyed gaze.

It’s unmistakeable. Tears slip between his fingers, tracing salty paths over his burnt flesh. “Azriel…” You don’t know what to do. You can’t do anything here, but leaving him feels wrong. Not when he’s so vulnerable. “Azriel?” You murmur, leaning into him again, “tell me what to do.” But he’s too in his head to hear.

You wince, taking in a deep breath before reaching forward. His eyes flick up to your hands, noting their approach. Before you know it, his shadows have flared at his back, like a might wave about to crush you, but then his arms sweep in, pulling you against him as his head buries into the crook of your neck.

He’s gripping you tightly - desperately - and it’s kind of hurting your neck. You can’t swallow. Hesitantly, you lift your arms to wrap beneath his shoulders, careful to mind his wings. Slowly, you shift into his lap, enabling you bring your hands to curl over the nape of his neck. Your fingers thread through his hair, softly scratching over his skin as wet droplets land on your shoulder. He’s still trembling beneath your hands, but it’ll less pronounced. His powerful arms wrap snuggly around your waist, pulling your front flush against his chest as he cries into your collar bone.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, softly, fingers sweeping through his silky hair with ease, “you’re going to be okay.”

[shatterinseconds]

julance '24 week 2 : fire

Lance strikes the makeshift flint and sparks catch the tinder, igniting into a nice roaring fire by the time he’s done feeding it. Pleased, Lance sits back on his heels and grins at Keith.

“I know you didn’t learn that in Boy Scouts,” is all Keith says, staring blankly at the fire that will certainly help keep them alive until their teammates rescue them from the forest moon they are currently stranded on. A little gratitude would be nice.

“That’s insulting; I feel very insulted right now.” Lance forces his face to fall in mock outrage. “How do you know I’m not a boy scout? Don’t think I have what it takes?”

“Please,” Keith mutters. “You’d probably be too distracted trying to climb a tree or something.” 

“Eh” —Lance considers Keith’s reasoning— “I guess that’s accurate. Still, next time start your critiques with, ‘thank you for saving us, Lance.’”

Keith shakes his head, though the corner of his mouth twitches—slight but present. “‘Thank you for saving us, Lance.’”

“Perfect.”

Lance returns to tending the fire, working to make sure it will remain stable for the next few hours, as they set up their camp in silence. They gather all the necessary supplies from the crashed Altean pod—emergency rations and a couple blankets—preparing to wait hours for a rescue and hopefully not days. Though, their team has to realize they’re missing first. But when Lance can no longer ignore Keith’s curious gaze boring into him, he sighs. 

“One of my uncles is a survival nut,” Lance explains, giving into Keith’s silent version of excessive questioning. “I went on way too many camping trips with my siblings.” But he whips around, pointing at Keith. “I just don’t understand why Mr. Lone Wolf who lived in a freakin’ desert for a year doesn’t know how to start a fire.”

“I always had matches.” Keith shrugs. He’s at least made himself useful by gathering logs for firewood and clearing out a space on the forest floor for them to sleep. “And there was a convenience store a couple dozen miles away that I could get gas at.”

“Oh my god. Your impressive meter has just dropped like a good five levels.”

Keith raises a single eyebrow that disappears behind his bangs. “You’re impressed by me?”

“No,” Lance quickly corrects his mistake. His cheeks heat. “I just think you’re too good at too many things for your own damn good. Be human for once.”

“I’m half Galra.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Be half human, half alien for once, my god.”

“I have no issues saying that I’m impressed by you,” Keith comments as he tugs his hair into a stubby ponytail—not that it makes his hair any less mullet shaped. 

“Oh really?” Lance suddenly brightens, changing his whole demeanor. He lays on his side; his arm props up his head as he bats his eyes. “Tell me more. I love hearing how clever and handsome you think I am.”

Scowling, Keith lifts his leg and gently shoves Lance off balance with the toe of his boot. “I only said you're impressive.”

“I can read between the lines.” Unperturbed, Lance flashes him another grin, even though leaves and dirt tangle in his hair now as he sprawls out beside his hand-made fire, where no help was needed, thank you very much. Yeah, he is impressive. “Got a B+ in Literature once.” 

“That’s just so hot,” Keith deadpans, and Lance cracks into a gut-wrenching roll of laughter. 

The next few hours are going to be fun.

[libraryofloveletters]

Written In The Photos - Social Media Series

decided to take a little break from writing (I will still be writing after this, don’t worry!) but I didn’t want to leave you guys without content so I present the Written In The Photos series. each driver/player has a song and their post is inspired by said song :) I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed making it <3 // special thank you to my bestie @themandaloriansdiaries for all her help with song choices and all the cracked out convos we had to put it together. 

Carlos Sainz Jr - Smooth Operator by Sade

late nights, jet leg and messed up sleep schedules lead to words spoken which would normally be kept to themselves. 

Jack Grealish - Hot Girl Summer by Meg Thee Stallion 

party after party, Jack seems to be spotted with the same girl over and over again.

Lewis Hamilton - Loveeeeeee Song by Rihanna and Future 

he’s sick and tired of seeing you in private, he wants the world to know you’re his. 

Sergio Ramos - Way 2 Sexy by Drake 

working for a footballer isn’t easy, it’s even harder when everyone thinks you’re dating. ( footballer x pr manager)

Max Verstappen  - Can We Still Friends by Tyler, The Creator

even the best of the friends can have falling outs, especially when you’re on opposites side of the track.  (teammate/rival!reader)

Andy Robertson - I’m Still In Love With You by Sean Paul ft. Sasha and Jeremy Harding

so many years apart and you’re still in love with the same guy you’ve always been in love with.

Lance Stroll - Stuck With You by Ariana Grande 

every relationship goes sour, except for the one you had with a certain brown eyed boy. 

Pato O’Ward -  Sunday Candy by Nico Segal 

snapshots of love and life with the love of your life.

Jude Bellingham - P Power by Gunna ft Drake  

young and in love, you two find yourselves making headlines more often than not. 

Sebastian Vettel - Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado and Timberland 

can’t keep his hands off you and can’t keep the flirty comments away. (redbull seb) 

Kylian Mbappe  -  Hotel Room Service by Pitbull 

secrets unravel when you’re caught together in spain.  

Jenson Button - Money by Cardi B 

diamonds are a girl’s best friend after all (sugar daddy!jenson)

Ruben Dias - Golden Hour by JVKE 

you supported him through it all, it only made sense you were the one there in the end. 

George Russell - London Boy by Taylor Swift 

grey weather is a bit of a downer, unless you have someone by your side. 

Bukayo Saka - Star Boy by The Weeknd

proud, proud, proud; you showed everyone just how proud you really were. 

Mick Schumacher - Dark Red by Steve Lacy 

he only has eyes for one girl and it’s the one girl he wasn’t supposed to be looking at. (vettel!reader)

Neymar Jr - Tití Me Preguntó by Bad Bunny 

he promised to change, you were stupid enough to believe him but people never really change do they?

Lando Norris - Young, Dumb and Broke by Khalid 

regret makes people do crazy things. 

John Stones - I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston 

your husband winning the treble calls for celebration and you two finally get the night out you deserve. 

Esteban Ocon - Sure Thing by Miguel 

attached at the hip; the sunshine to his rain. you were everything to him. 

Erling Haaland - Sunday Mornings by Maroon 5

sunday mornings were a bit of a tradition for you, everyone notices when the pattern changes.

Pierre Gasly - Creepin’ by The Weeknd 

loyalty runs both ways, until it doesn’t anymore but nothing ever really changes, does it?

Virgil Van Dijk - Let ‘Em Know by Bryson Tiller 

some things never change, no matter how much you try. 

Fernando Alonso - I’m Still Standing by Elton John 

looking up and looking down, it never felt so right. 

Jordan Henderson - If I Ain’t Got You by Alicia Keys 

with your 10th anniversary around the corner, you both get a bit in your feels.

Charles Leclerc - A Sunday Kind Of Love by Etta James 

races, weddings and races again; sundays hold a special place in his heart. 

Trent Alexander Arnold - One Kiss by Dua Lipa

all it took was one kiss and the floodgates were opened. 

Daniel Ricciardo - Woo by Rihanna

monaco is good to those who are good to it, especially those who win. every winner deserves a prize worthy of a king.

Christian Pulisic - Unforgettable by French Montana and Swae Lee

the star player and the ex girlfriend of his closest teammate are spotted together; you’re too unforgettable.

Kostas Tsimikas - Boyfriend by Ariana Grande and Social House

you were his until you weren't, but then you were again. the two of you tangled in the sheets and in a web of confusion; were you or were you not?

[silversainz]

29 “you look so pretty underneath me” & “you’re doing so well” for either zhou or lance (if you’re taking smut requests rn, if not that’s totally fine!) maybe something on the softer side (like no hard degradation or kinks or anything) and maybe like a sweetheart or two in there?

Sweet mornings ★ ZG24

# summary — sweet mornings with Zhou are like heaven and a bliss.

# warnings — soft smut, p n v, praise, oral (f!male receiving), mentions of marking, petnames, I've proofread but there might be some small errors.

Cracking your eyes open to face the ray of sunshine that illuminated the room was something you always loved, the ray was beautiful bouncing off the walls covering your face with the beam. It was a wonderful sight to woke up to but something you aren’t used to waking up was the feeling of guanyu’s hands pressing themselves against your stomach as he placed lingering kisses down your cheek to your bare shoulder.

“You awake” his voice was deep and soft from just waking up.

You slowly turned around to face, the ray of sunshine hitting his face as well making your heart swell up with butterflies as he looked so beautiful underneath the sunlight next to you.

“Been awake awhile” you laid your head on his chest his heartbeat pulsing through your ears as your hand drew different patterns on his chest. “Was just enjoying the sunrise’’ he hummed hand creasing your hair before pulling you closer to him to place kisses to your head.

“well” he paused his hand resting on your jaw to lift your head up to face him, “you do look beautiful in the sunlight’’ your cheeks burned with redness, he chuckled pulling you in for an soft tender kiss, as his hand made its way underneath the covers to rest on your hip body’s pushing against each other.

He broke the kiss, softly pushing you down to lay on your back his hands laid beside your head as your legs wrapped around his waist pushing him down to feel his bare, hot body against yours.

“What you thinking about huh?” His fingertips moved hair away from your face as he ducked his head down placing kisses on your cheeks making his way down to your neck, his teeth nipping at the soft skin causing a soft gasp to leave your lips at the feeling of his teeth.

“Hm thinking about how pretty you look” your hands threaded through his hair breath picking up as he kissed his way down your body, “so pretty in the sunlight” you finished off your sentence. He gently took the covers off you both tossing them to the side as he lightly pushed your legs open setting himself in-between them

He said nothing about that but the redness that formed on his cheeks told you everything you needed to know about how your words affected him. He pressed delicate kisses to your body, starting at your inner thighs making his way to your abdomen gently kissing around the area that pulsed for him and the feeling of his tongue.

“Zhou..please” you softly pleaded, chest heaving up and down, body heating up with need and want. “need you, please” your fist grabbed onto the bedsheets feeling the wetness of his tongue lick down your body before laying directly on your core giving you kitty licks as his tongue swells around your bundle of nerves sucking onto it, the action made your head hit the pillows.

Soft praises left Guanyu’s mouth as he worked you through your orgasm, his tongue hitting all the right areas that had you seeing stars as moans left your mouth in a pure unholy bliss. Which in his eyes, as he looked up at you, was a beautiful sight to see.

“You’re doing so well, honey” you softly cried as your legs started to shake, Zhou noticed replacing his tongue with his fingers as he placed tender kisses to your thighs.

“Am gonna cum” he hummed hovering over you his other hand resting on your cheek softy creasing your warm skin in the palm of his hand. “ go ahead and cum, dear” your eyes shut tightly at the softness of his tone as you came undone, your hand grabbing onto his hair as lazy moans left your mouth.

“You look so pretty underneath me, sweetheart ” he pulled his fingers out of your core a whine leaving your lips as he did so. He leaned down towards your chest his teeth nipping at the skin.

No words needed to be side as he ran his hands all over your body while he worked on leaving light markings to the valley of your breast, which was something he loved to leave on you as a sort of reminder of what only he’s allowed to see when your clothes come off.

He pinned your hands above your head as he slowly pushed his cock into your core a sight of relief falling from your mouths as you both fulfilled the want and desperation you were craving for one another. As He softly thrusted into your core he leaned down lips brushing against yours, “you’re so beautiful, so beautiful” he muttered out against your lips before closing the gap between you both.

The room filled up with moans and grunts as the sunlight bounced off you both creating a slight that left you breathless for words, only could focus on the feeling of zhou’s cock hitting all the right places while the sunlight bounced off his sweaty skin.

He broke the kiss, hand letting go of yours as he dropped his head to lay in your neck. “feel so good Zhou” your hands scratched down his back.

He groaned feeling the warmth of your hands scratch down his back, “fuck gonna cum, love” you kissed his neck hand leaving his back to thread through his now sweaty hair.

“Mm, cum for me honey” he grunted as he came hands becoming weak to hold himself up as he fell down to rest on top of you, his head on your chest while loud pants left his mouth.

He rolled over back to his side of the bed grabbing onto the covers to cover you both back up. “Am sleepy now” you yawned. He chuckled pulling you into his embrace while placing kisses to your temple.

“Well, it’s still early, get some sleep love.” you closed your eyes hand grabbing onto his as sleep overtook you both.